


Love for Duty

by skywalkersamidala



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Modern Royalty, based off the iconic film the princess diaries 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28760853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkersamidala/pseuds/skywalkersamidala
Summary: Lorenzo is about to ascend the throne of Florence, but there's one snag: an ancient law stating that he has to be married first. Enter Francesco, ordered by his uncle to seduce Lorenzo so he'll fail to meet the marriage deadline and the Pazzi will be one step closer to getting the throne for themselves. But of course, nothing ever goes according to plan.
Relationships: Lorenzo "Il Magnifico" de' Medici/Francesco de' Pazzi, background clarice/lucrezia, background lorenzo/clarice arranged engagement
Comments: 37
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily HEAVILY based off the Princess Diaries 2, you don't have to have seen that to read this but this fic would seem less ridiculous if you were familiar with the movie haha anyway some notes before we start! First, this is dedicated to literaetures on tumblr because this glorious AU is her brainchild just as much as mine! We started crafting it well over a year ago and this fic wouldn’t exist without her and all her fabulous ideas :’)
> 
> Next, I just want to make a quick note on the relative ages of the characters. Historically Bianca was older than Lorenzo and Guglielmo was older than Francesco and that’s usually what I go with in my fics, but in this particular one I switched it so that Lorenzo and Francesco are the oldest siblings in their families bc the various inheritance/succession issues make more sense that way.
> 
> Finally, I will tell you right now that the worldbuilding in this fic does not make any sense whatsoever. It’s a nonsensical alternate reality where Florence is an independent country with an absolutely ridiculous government and laws, but in my defense, a lot of the nonsense was taken directly from PD2 bc it’s necessary for the “oh no I gotta get married ASAP so I can be crowned” plotline, so my hands were tied ok? But you’re not here for plausible worldbuilding and a reasonable government system, you’re here for that sweet sweet enemies to lovers and by God, you’re gonna receive it. Happy reading!

“How does it feel to be back in Florence for good?” Lucrezia Donati asked.

Lorenzo twirled her perfectly in time with the music. “I do miss my friends from university, and my classes too,” he said, returning his hand to her waist. “But it’s good to be home.” He had spent the past five years at the University of Bologna getting a law degree and had been in Florence only intermittently during school breaks.

“I imagine there were friends in Florence whom you missed while you were in Bologna,” Lucrezia said, her smile turning a little sly.

Lorenzo smirked back at her, his hand on her back sliding down just slightly lower than was entirely proper. “Oh, there were a few, I suppose.”

The song ended, and as she stepped back and curtsied, Lucrezia murmured, “I’ll see you after the ball?”

“Definitely,” Lorenzo promised under his breath.

They went their separate ways, Lucrezia to catch up with some friends and Lorenzo to mingle with more of the guests at the ball celebrating his university graduation and permanent return to Florence. “Lucrezia Donati seemed _very_ happy to see you again,” Giuliano remarked when Lorenzo had a moment to gossip quietly with him in between greeting diplomats.

“She’s a dear friend and it’s been a long time since we last saw each other,” Lorenzo said.

“‘Dear friend,’ my ass. Mom and Dad are going to flip when the media inevitably finds out you’ve been sleeping with a Parliament member’s ex-wife for years,” Giuliano said, like he was looking forward to it. “Honestly, I don’t know how you _have_ managed to keep anyone from finding out for so long.”

Admittedly there _had_ been a fair amount of tabloid speculation over the years, but no concrete proof had ever emerged and Lorenzo fully intended it to stay that way. _“Ex-_ wife, whereas you’re sleeping with a Parliament member’s _current_ wife,” he pointed out.

“You say that like you weren’t also sleeping with Lucrezia for years before the divorce and like you didn’t literally cause the divorce,” Giuliano said.

“I did _not_ cause the divorce, she left Ardinghelli because he’s an ass and they have nothing in common. It had nothing to do with me,” Lorenzo protested. “We’re only friends with benefits anyway, not the kind of relationship you’d leave somebody else for.”

“As if the media would care about little details like that. In their eyes, you’d be a bona fide homewrecker. Major scandal,” Giuliano said smugly.

“Again, you are also a homewrecker. Actually, take out the ‘also,’ since _I_ am not a homewrecker.”

“Well, you know it doesn’t matter as much who I’m sleeping with, seeing as I’m not the one who’s going to be the king of Florence someday.”

“It would still cause a scandal and make our family look bad,” Lorenzo said.

“Yes, but not to the same level as your homewrecking would,” Giuliano replied with a careless shrug.

“I’m not a homewrecker!” Lorenzo insisted. “But I _am_ the host of this party, so if you’ll excuse me, there’s a lot more hands I still have to shake.”

“Have fun,” Giuliano said cheerfully as he went off to do something no doubt irresponsible.

Lorenzo turned and made his way through the crowd, a part of him unable to help but be envious of Giuliano’s freedom. He was still watched by the press like a hawk, of course, but not quite to the extent that Lorenzo was. And Giuliano’s reputation as a partier and a playboy somehow endeared him to the public, while Lorenzo was criticized every time he was spotted drinking or out on a date or really doing _anything_ to unwind. As the future king, everyone expected him to be serious and duty-driven at all times, even though he was only twenty-four.

Not to mention that Lorenzo’s whole life was mapped out for him, whereas Giuliano had options, he could do whatever he chose (well, within reason). That, Lorenzo thought as he smiled and shook hands with a minor Florentine noble, was the real thing he was jealous of. He loved Florence, he wanted to serve his people, he’d spent his whole life training for it. But sometimes—and especially while he’d been away at university, temporarily free from the stifling atmosphere of palace life—he couldn’t help but wonder what he would’ve chosen to do with his life if he’d had the option.

“You’re looking awfully gloomy for someone who’s in the middle of having a party in his honor.”

Lorenzo turned around and smiled as he saw Bianca approaching, her boyfriend Guglielmo Pazzi at her side. “Just thinking about how I’m back to the world of royal responsibilities after a nice five-year break,” Lorenzo said.

Bianca made a face. “That’d make anyone gloomy.”

They chatted for a few minutes before Bianca and Guglielmo went to go dance, and as he kept walking Lorenzo was so busy craning his neck to pick out a new dance partner himself that he crashed right into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Lorenzo said, hastily turning his attention to the person he’d just trampled.

His breath caught in his throat. The man standing in front of him was so familiar it made his heart hurt, but it had been years since he’d last seen him and he looked different now, older, more adult. _More attractive_ , a sly voice whispered in the back of his mind.

“Francesco?” Lorenzo said.

Francesco Pazzi inclined his head. “Your Highness. And no harm done, I wasn’t looking where I was going either.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” Lorenzo said, giving him a small smile. “You never used to.”

“Things are different now,” Francesco said. “We’re not kids anymore.”

No, they definitely weren’t. There had been occasional formal events like this one over the years during which Lorenzo had caught glimpses of Francesco through crowds, but this was the first time Lorenzo was really seeing him up close since they were nine, when Francesco and Guglielmo’s parents had died and their uncle Jacopo had taken them in. And Jacopo despised the Medici, so he had immediately put a stop to the playdates Francesco used to have with Lorenzo at the palace.

Now, Lorenzo stared at him longer than he probably should’ve, but he could hardly believe this tall (though still shorter than him), sharp-faced, and exceptionally good-looking man was really his childhood best friend. Francesco had been so small when they were kids, his face round and still a little babyish the last time they’d spoken. Yet there was something about him that was still unquestionably Francesco, still so familiar. His eyes, maybe, Lorenzo thought, his eyes were exactly the same as he remembered.

“So, welcome home,” Francesco said, drawing Lorenzo out of his thoughts.

“Thank you,” Lorenzo said. “And thank you for coming tonight, I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Ah, I see your staff doesn’t clear guest lists with you in advance.”

“Oh—no, I didn’t mean—”

“Relax. I’m joking,” Francesco said with a little half-smile, and Lorenzo smiled too, albeit rather sheepishly.

“I’m glad you’re here. Really,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has.”

Lorenzo wanted to say more. _I’ve missed you. You were my best friend. Why did we let your uncle come between us?_ But he didn’t feel comfortable saying anything so personal to this new Francesco, who might as well have been a stranger to him. They hadn’t spoken in fifteen years, who knew what Francesco was like these days?

So he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he impulsively held out his hand and said, “Would you like to dance?”

Francesco looked taken aback. “Um…all right,” he said after a second, hesitantly reaching out and taking Lorenzo’s hand.

Why did Lorenzo’s stomach do a backflip when their hands met?

Lorenzo led him onto the dancefloor, trying to make his heartbeat slow down. What was wrong with him? It was just Francesco.

The string quartet was playing a traditional waltz, and Lorenzo and Francesco fell into step together easily, both having grown up learning this sort of thing. “So, what have you been up to?” Lorenzo asked. “University, right?”

“Yes, down in Rome,” Francesco said. “I just graduated too.”

“Congratulations. What did you study?”

“Economics. You studied law?”

“Yes, but to be honest, I wanted to study literature, or maybe art history,” Lorenzo confessed. “That’s not the most practical degree for a future king, though.”

“Your parents wouldn’t let you?” Francesco said.

“I don’t know, I didn’t even ask them,” Lorenzo said. “It was more of an internal pressure that I put on myself. I felt obligated to study something that I could use to benefit Florence someday.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” Francesco remarked.

“How do you mean?”

“Always putting duty first. Like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Not the world, just our country,” Lorenzo said dryly, feeling weirdly pleased with himself when that made Francesco let out a huff of laughter. “What about you, have you changed?”

Francesco shrugged. “You tell me.”

Lorenzo studied him for a minute, again feeling a little breathless at how _beautiful_ he was. Appearance aside, Francesco did seem different. He’d been a shy child, yes, but not closed-off like he was now. Closed-off and not quite cold, but definitely aloof, like he was maintaining a careful distance between himself and Lorenzo. When they were children Francesco had laughed and smiled so easily, whereas all the smiles during their conversation this evening had been polite rather than genuine. They hadn’t reached his eyes.

It made Lorenzo sad, and made him wonder what exactly had happened to Francesco in the past fifteen years to make him lose his natural light.

“I haven’t spent enough time with you to judge,” Lorenzo settled on. “But…I’d like to. Spend more time with you, that is.”

Francesco missed a step in their dance, which was ridiculously cute. Why was _cute_ a word Lorenzo was suddenly associating with Francesco Pazzi? “You would?” Francesco said, clearly surprised.

“Of course,” Lorenzo said. “I know we haven’t spoken in years, but we were friends once. I’d like it if we could be again.”

Francesco smiled, hesitantly but sincerely, his first sincere smile all evening. And as Lorenzo’s gaze was drawn to his adorable dimples, he thought in delighted relief that maybe that natural light hadn’t been completely snuffed out after all. “Me too,” Francesco said.

When the song ended, Lorenzo dearly wanted to ask him to stay for another. But he hadn’t danced more than one song with anyone all night and didn’t want to risk starting gossip or making other guests feel snubbed, so instead he smiled and bid him goodbye.

Or started to, but was interrupted by people shouting on the other side of the room. Lorenzo jumped in alarm and hurried over to see what the commotion was. There was a knot of onlookers gathered around someone who appeared to have collapsed. And when he got closer, his heart dropped into his stomach as he saw that it was—

“Dad!”

* * *

“Such a tragedy,” Jacopo murmured, though he didn’t look particularly grief-stricken, in Francesco’s opinion. “We all knew his health wasn’t the best, but heart failure…none of us could have predicted that.”

Judging by his tone, Francesco might honestly think that Jacopo had had Piero murdered if there weren’t an abundance of medical professionals who’d definitively ruled it a natural death caused by heart failure.

The funeral was being held in Santa Maria del Fiore. They were seated towards the middle of the cathedral (though Guglielmo had merited a seat right in the front row with Bianca), but still close enough that Francesco could see the tears on Lorenzo’s cheeks as he stood to give the eulogy. Francesco hadn’t been able to stop watching him for the whole service, his mind full of unpleasant memories of his own parents’ funeral. He kept having the strange urge to go up there and take Lorenzo into his arms, hold him close and let him cry into his shoulder, the way Lorenzo had done fifteen years ago when their positions were reversed.

But that was fifteen years ago, and now everything was different. Yes, they’d had a nice conversation at the ball, but they were strangers to each other. Francesco was the last person who had any business comforting Lorenzo right now. And he shouldn’t even want to anyway.

“What will happen to the succession?” he asked Jacopo later once they’d returned to Palazzo Pazzi. “Surely they’ll make an exception to the marriage law under the circumstances.”

There was an old law stating that monarchs had to be married when they assumed the throne, originally made to ensure the stability of succession by improving the chances that the new monarch wouldn’t be long without an heir. Personally Francesco found it a little outdated these days, though no one had thought to repeal it because Lorenzo’s father and grandfather and great-grandfather had all already been married with children by the time they ascended the throne.

Lorenzo would be their youngest king in generations.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Jacopo said. “Parliament likes its rules and its traditions.”

“They can’t _force_ Lorenzo to marry,” Francesco objected. “Especially when his father isn’t even cold in the grave. Marriage must be the last thing he wants to think about right now.”

“I wasn’t aware you were so concerned for Lorenzo’s feelings.”

“I’m not,” Francesco said quickly. “I’m only saying, it seems like Parliament could make an exception just this once.”

“You do know,” Jacopo said, “that if Lorenzo’s claim on the throne becomes invalid, it will pass to Bianca, which means your brother may well end up ruling by her side, judging by how serious that ill-advised relationship is looking.” He gave a haughty sniff to further make his disapproval of Guglielmo and Bianca’s relationship known. “But even though Guglielmo is long since lost to us and would be of little use himself, a Pazzi married to the queen would still put us into a strong position from which we could more easily pull strings to…minimize Medici influence.”

 _Use Guglielmo to overthrow his own family, you mean,_ Francesco thought, but he was too much of a coward to say it out loud.

“Or better yet,” Jacopo was saying, “if Bianca and Giuliano both decline, as I imagine they might, neither of them has a head for ruling—if they both decline, there will be no more Medici available. And next in line are their distant relatives the Alessandri, your mother’s family. _You.”_

Francesco’s brow furrowed as he realized what he was saying. “So you’re going to do everything you can to convince Parliament _not_ to make an exception to the marriage law for Lorenzo?”

“Exactly,” Jacopo said. “It’s about time the Medici were ousted from power.”

* * *

“We’ve called this meeting to discuss the matter of the succession,” Prime Minister Petrucci said, shuffling some papers around and calling everyone to order.

“I wasn’t aware there was anything to discuss,” said Lucrezia Tornabuoni, who was the temporary queen regent in the weeks between Piero’s death and Lorenzo’s coronation. “Lorenzo will succeed, all that’s left to do is his official coronation.”

Lorenzo’s heart gave an unpleasant jolt at the thought of his coronation ceremony. He’d always known he would only become king upon the death of his father, of course, and yet it felt so strange and wrong to have such an important event in his life without Piero there.

“I’m afraid that’s not _all_ that’s left, Your Majesty,” said Petrucci. “There is a law which states that a monarch must be married upon his ascent to the throne.”

“Yes, but that’s an ancient law,” Lucrezia said impatiently. “I’d assumed it could be overlooked under the circumstances.”

“We cannot just _overlook_ laws, Your Majesty,” old Gentile de’ Becchi said, looking affronted. “That law is in place with good reason.”

“Lorenzo is only twenty-four years old,” Lucrezia said. “He has many years ahead of him to marry and have children, there’s no need to force the issue of marriage already.”

“But what’s to say—I pray to God it doesn’t happen, but what’s to say His Highness mightn’t die unexpectedly without any heirs?” Jacopo Pazzi replied. He left the sudden and unexpected nature of Piero’s death unsaid, though Lorenzo was thinking it and he was sure everyone else was too.

“Signor Pazzi is right, it would be wise to demonstrate caution in this matter,” de’ Becchi said.

“If I may speak,” Lorenzo said. He wasn’t yet an official member of Parliament, but had often accompanied his father to Parliament sessions as a learning experience and was here now as the king-to-be. Although apparently that was less certain than he’d believed.

Petrucci nodded at him. “Certainly, Your Highness.”

“I understand you’re all wary and on edge. My father’s death was a shock and a blow to all of us,” Lorenzo said, managing to keep his voice steady. “But I assure you, you needn’t worry about the succession. Even if I were to die tomorrow, my sister Bianca would be willing and able to assume the throne in my place.” Well, he wasn’t too sure about _willing,_ but Parliament didn’t need to know that.

“With all due respect, Your Highness, your sister has not been preparing for the throne,” said Niccolò Ardinghelli, Lucrezia Donati’s ex-husband. “I’m sure she could rise to the occasion, of course, but she has never expected to rule, she would not be well-prepared.”

“As opposed to an infant?” Lorenzo said rather testily. “I fail to see how forcing me to marry and have children immediately would put Florence in a better position upon my sudden death.”

“Your Highness, gentlemen, we are blowing this hypothetical scenario of mine out of proportion,” Jacopo said. “His Highness is in excellent health, there is no reason to seriously believe the succession is in immediate danger. For my part, I believe adhering to this law is important not so much because of any risk of His Highness dying without heirs, but more as a reaction to his…ah, current lifestyle.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Lucrezia said, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, I apologize if I overstep or am mistaken,” Jacopo said, not looking sorry at all, “but from what I’ve heard, His Highness does not tend to pursue…long-term relationships.”

“You do overstep, Signor Pazzi,” Lucrezia snapped. “As I said, Lorenzo is young and was just away at university for five years, of course he’s been pursuing more casual relationships. Everyone does at his age.”

Lorenzo couldn’t believe they were actually sitting here talking about his sex life during a session of Parliament. He tried very hard not to look at Ardinghelli. “Yes, of course,” Jacopo said. “As a young man and the crown prince, there was nothing wrong with that. But as our king…”

To Lorenzo’s dismay, murmurs of assent broke out throughout the room. “I, for one, would feel more at ease about Florence’s future if I could see our king securely married,” said Marco Vespucci, Simonetta’s husband. Oh, how dearly Lorenzo wanted to make a snarky comment about the security of _his_ marriage, but he held his tongue.

The discussion went on for over an hour until Petrucci finally called for a vote. It was close, but Parliament was mostly made up of traditionalist old men and/or people easily swayed by Jacopo Pazzi, and so with a narrow margin it was decided that Lorenzo had to marry before he could assume the throne.

“Her Majesty the queen will continue in her role until such time as that happens,” Petrucci said after the vote had passed.

“There ought to be a time limit,” Jacopo Pazzi said. “A dowager queen cannot continue to rule indefinitely—”

“A dowager queen is still a queen, Signor Pazzi, and a perfectly capable one at that,” Lucrezia said coldly.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I meant no offense,” Jacopo said, which Lorenzo doubted was true. “But to have a queen, though a highly capable one, who is not of the royal bloodline ruling on her own for a significant amount of time, it simply hasn’t been done in Florence’s history.”

“It’s true,” said de’ Becchi, who knew all the laws and customs better than anyone. “Her Majesty’s current role as regent is intended solely as a brief position during the transition of power from one legitimate monarch to the next.”

Jacopo nodded in satisfaction. “I propose that His Highness be given thirty days to marry, after which point he will forfeit his claim to the throne and Her Highness Princess Bianca will be crowned instead, assuming she is willing and also marries in due time,” he said.

“Thirty days?! That’s not fair!” Lorenzo blurted out, then immediately kicked himself when half of Parliament turned to look condescendingly at him like he was a particularly whiny five-year-old.

“Six months,” Luca Soderini offered instead. He’d voted unsuccessfully to let Lorenzo ascend unmarried and now seemed to be trying to do what little he could to still help him, which Lorenzo appreciated; he’d always been fond of Soderini.

Everyone started shouting numbers. “Four months!”

“Six weeks!”

“Three months!”

Eventually two months was settled on and Parliament was dismissed. “How am I supposed to find a wife _and_ plan an entire wedding in two months?” Lorenzo fumed to Lucrezia as their car took them back to the palace.

“I’m sure our event planners will be able to pull off a beautiful wedding in a short amount of time,” Lucrezia said, though she didn’t look much happier than he was.

“Then I hope they can pull it off in a week or less, because I’m going to need the maximum amount of time to pick the person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with!”

Lucrezia sighed and patted his arm comfortingly. “I _had_ hoped you’d have more freedom in marriage than this,” she said. “But your father and I had an arranged marriage, and we ended up so wonderfully happy.”

Her voice cracked a little, and she turned away to wipe her eyes. Lorenzo suddenly hated Parliament all the more, making their family deal with finding him a wife mere _days_ after Piero’s death. “Well, then, I hope I’ll be as lucky as you and Dad were,” he said, taking Lucrezia’s hand and squeezing it. “But I don’t even know where to start.”

“Lucky for you, we _have_ been compiling a list of eligible potential matches over the past few years,” Lucrezia admitted with a wry smile.

Lorenzo chuckled. “Of course you have.”

So within a few hours, he found himself in Lucrezia’s sitting room along with Bianca and Giuliano, filling them in on the latest developments. “I wish I could’ve been there to see Jacopo Pazzi slutshame you in front of all of Parliament,” Bianca said with a snicker.

Giuliano snickered too. “Shut up,” said Lorenzo, who was decidedly less amused. “Mom, the list?”

“Yes, yes.” Lucrezia pulled up a spreadsheet on her laptop and passed it over to him, and Lorenzo’s eyes nearly fell out of his head when he saw how exhaustive it was. “Now, this list is mostly women, but since you’re bisexual, Lorenzo, your father and I did try to note any openly gay or bi male nobles that we knew of.”

“Very inclusive of you,” Lorenzo said as he quickly scrolled through it. “Would I really be allowed to marry a man?” Same-sex marriage had been legalized in Florence during Cosimo’s reign, but Lorenzo wasn’t sure how people would react to the king himself marrying another man. He _had_ found mostly support when he’d publicly come out as bi, though, so that was something.

“Well, it would be an uphill battle with Parliament, but speaking purely in terms of legality, there’s no technical reason why you can’t,” Lucrezia said. “The law just says the monarch has to be married, not that it has to be a heterosexual marriage.”

Lorenzo grinned. “You’re sneakier than I give you credit for.”

“Thank you.”

“But if they’re all up in arms about you ruling when you’re not of the royal bloodline, Mom, surely they’d throw a fit about Lorenzo not having a biological child,” Giuliano said.

“I could still have a biological child if I married a man, surrogacy and all that,” Lorenzo pointed out. “But on the other hand, Mom’s right, it _would_ be an uphill battle, and we don’t have the time for that. If the circumstances were different, if I could date a man for several years, give Parliament and the public several years to warm up to the idea of me marrying him…” He trailed off and shook his head. “But the way things are now, I don’t have the luxury of time. So it would probably be best if I picked a woman.”

“I do agree that that would be a more reliable bet for satisfying Parliament quickly,” Lucrezia said. “But ultimately the decision is yours, and whoever you choose, all of us will support you. And fight with Parliament for your right to marry that person, if need be.”

“Yeah, they’re already forcing you to get married against your wishes, so letting you have full freedom in picking your spouse is really the very least they can do,” Bianca said.

“Those bastards,” Giuliano added helpfully.

Lorenzo gave them a small smile, buoyed by the support. Even though he was being forced into a marriage before he was ready, even though his father was gone and he missed him so much it hurt, at least he didn’t have to go through everything alone.

“Now,” Bianca said next, “can we hurry up and start looking at the list, please? I want to pick out my new sister-in-law. Or brother-in-law, or whoever.” Lorenzo imagined she was particularly anxious to see him married so that she wouldn’t have to become queen in his stead.

“Are there pictures? We have to know if they’re hot,” Giuliano said. “That’s a very important factor to consider.”

“Yeah, I have to marry whoever Giuliano thinks _isn’t_ hot so there’s no risk of him having an affair with them,” Lorenzo said, which made Bianca laugh, Giuliano roll his eyes, and Lucrezia just sigh and start going through the list (with Bianca and Giuliano dutifully googling everyone to find pictures).

No one stood out to Lorenzo, until— “Francesco Pazzi?” he said, gaping at the next entry in the spreadsheet.

Giuliano looked horrified. “Ew! Cross him out!”

“He—you picked—” Lorenzo spluttered. “I could marry him? He likes men?”

“Yes, he’s bi,” Bianca confirmed. “He came out a year or two ago.”

“I never heard.” Apparently he hadn’t done a good enough job keeping up with Florentine gossip while in Bologna.

“Well, he’s just a viscount, so it wasn’t a big thing that the general public cared about, not like when you did it,” Bianca said. “I only really heard because of Guglielmo.”

“Still, you’d think someone would’ve told me,” Lorenzo said.

Giuliano raised his eyebrows. “Why would anyone assume you’d care?”

“I-I don’t know,” Lorenzo stammered, trying not to look flustered. “I care about any noble coming out, it’s so rare when that happens.”

“I guess.”

“Now that I think more seriously about it, for me Francesco isn’t a real contender,” Lucrezia said, steering the conversation back on track. “I’m not comfortable having Jacopo Pazzi any closer to the crown than he already is. Francesco is next in line after Giuliano.”

“What?” Lorenzo said, startled. “Since when?”

“His mother was of the Alessandri family, who have a common ancestor with the Medici, and Francesco is currently the oldest in the bloodline,” Lucrezia said. “I’m surprised you don’t know that, Lorenzo, the succession should have been covered in your lessons with your tutor at some point over the years.”

Lorenzo scrunched up his face, trying to remember. There _was_ a faint childhood memory tugging at the back of his mind, him and Francesco giggling over the revelation that they were distantly related, Lorenzo making some joke about Francesco becoming king instead of him. How could he have forgotten?

“Oh my God, Bianca and Guglielmo are related?!” Giuliano said gleefully.

“Very, very distantly,” Lucrezia said as Bianca rolled her eyes. “The common ancestor is many generations back, it hardly counts as a relation except where the succession is concerned.”

“So this explains why Jacopo was so keen on enforcing the marriage law,” Lorenzo realized. “He hopes I’ll fail to marry and Bianca will decline the throne and then Giuliano will fail to marry as well, leaving the throne to Francesco.”

There was a sick feeling in his stomach as he remembered Francesco’s sudden, unexpected civility to him at the ball. Smiling to his face even while he and Jacopo were plotting behind his back. Well, they couldn’t have known that Piero would have a heart attack that very evening, but still. Piero’s poor health had been common knowledge for years, so everybody had expected Lorenzo to succeed fairly young, even if not quite _this_ young. Jacopo and Francesco had probably spent just as many years plotting for how to take advantage of the situation when the time came.

And Lorenzo had naively allowed himself to think that he and Francesco could be friends again, just like when they were children. To think that Francesco _wanted_ to be friends. When really Francesco just wanted to steal his throne. His overtures of friendship at the ball had probably been purely an attempt to get close to Lorenzo so that he’d be able to manipulate him in the future.

“…seems like a lot of ‘what ifs’ for Jacopo to be depending on,” Bianca was saying. “Even if Lorenzo failed to marry, I wouldn’t decline the throne and could marry Guglielmo to keep it, so his plans would come to nothing.”

“At which point I’m sure Jacopo would try some new maneuver to prove you unfit to be queen in some way,” Lucrezia said. “I would rather not test it, which is why Lorenzo _must_ marry within the timeframe. The more distance between Francesco and the throne, the better.”

“Which means that Francesco is hereby declared the most ineligible candidate on this list,” Giuliano added, grabbing the laptop to enthusiastically put a strikethrough across Francesco’s name.

They continued down the list, still with no luck. Lorenzo knew he _had_ to pick someone, but he just hadn’t come across anyone particularly appealing yet. _Except Francesco,_ whispered that sly voice in the back of his head which he tried to ignore. Lorenzo sternly reminded himself that Francesco was just as much of a snake as his uncle, childhood friendship and current attractiveness be damned. He couldn’t be trusted.

“Now, I don’t want to bias you, Lorenzo, but she’s my personal favorite of everyone here,” Lucrezia said several minutes later towards the end of the list.

“Clarice Orsini,” Lorenzo read out, and Bianca immediately started typing away on her phone. “A noblewoman from Rome.”

“I’ve never met her, but Carlo knows her quite well and has nothing but wonderful things to say about her,” Lucrezia said. “Her family is very respected and influential in Rome, and Clarice is highly educated and is a dedicated philanthropist. She’s a patron of a number of charitable organizations and spends a lot of time volunteering at them, and she’s recently founded one of her own to support children from low-income families. An intelligent, kind, and overall lovely woman by all accounts.”

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Bianca said, looking down at her phone.

She showed the screen to the others. Lorenzo studied the picture she’d found, taking in Clarice’s round face and bright smile and green eyes and long brown hair. “Very pretty,” Giuliano agreed. “Not my type, so Lorenzo doesn’t have anything to worry about, but objectively very pretty.”

“What do you think, Lorenzo?” Lucrezia asked.

She _was_ beautiful, and if Lucrezia’s information was accurate, she sounded like a good-hearted and selfless person. The perfect sort of queen. And even better that Carlo knew her personally and spoke highly of her; Lorenzo trusted his judgment implicitly.

“Yes, I like her too,” Lorenzo said. “I’ll invite her here for a visit at her earliest convenience, and I suppose we’ll see where that takes us.”

Lucrezia looked delighted. “Wonderful.”

* * *

That night, needing some stress relief, Lorenzo invited Lucrezia Donati over. “How are you doing?” she asked as they lay in bed together afterwards.

“Freaking out,” he said. “I’m about to become king, and yeah, I always knew it would happen and have been preparing for it, but it’s still _terrifying_ and I never imagined it would happen so soon, and on top of all that I now have to worry about finding a wife within two months because stupid Parliament is so obsessed with its stupid traditions and stupid rules—”

“I didn’t mean how you’re doing as the king-to-be,” Lucrezia interrupted gently. “I meant, how are you doing as a son who just lost his father?”

The words died in Lorenzo’s throat, and he swallowed, his eyes suddenly feeling hot. “It still doesn’t even feel real,” he said quietly. “It feels like—like he’s just off on some diplomatic trip somewhere and he’ll be back home again soon.” He sniffled. “With all the other shit on my plate, I haven’t even had time to process the fact that…he’s really gone. I always knew he wouldn’t live as long as we all would’ve liked, but I thought we’d have a few more years together, at least. There’s so much I should’ve said to him, so much I should’ve asked him about. I-I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

His voice cracked and broke, and he closed his eyes, feeling tears trickling down his cheeks. He and Lucrezia didn’t make a habit of cuddling after sex—they were casual friends with benefits, not lovers—but now she wrapped her arms around him and Lorenzo leaned gratefully into the embrace. “I can’t imagine how much it must hurt,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” Lorenzo said. It was one of the first condolences he’d received that felt sincere. That felt like the giver was seeing him as a son who’d lost his father, not as a future king preparing to succeed his predecessor.

“Now, what’s this about you having to get married?” Lucrezia asked after a quiet minute.

Lorenzo told her about all that had transpired. “So are you definitely going to marry this Clarice?” she said.

“I don’t know. Probably. My mother keeps stressing that this is just an initial meeting for us to get to know each other and I don’t have to choose her if I don’t want to, but it’s not like I have an abundance of other options, or time for that matter,” Lorenzo said. He sighed. “Too bad I can’t just marry you, at least we know we get along well and are good together in bed.” He knew that marrying a sitting Parliament member’s ex-wife would cause too much of a scandal and hadn’t even bothered floating it past his mother as a possibility.

Lucrezia laughed. “Unfortunately, a successful marriage requires more than just getting along well and being good together in bed,” she said. “You deserve to marry someone you’re truly in love with, and I certainly don’t ever want to get remarried unless I find someone like that myself. I’ve had enough of lukewarm marriages for a lifetime.”

“I hope you do find that person someday, but it’s pretty unlikely I’ll be able to do the same, unless Clarice magically turns out to be my soulmate,” Lorenzo said glumly. “I just can’t believe Parliament is making me do this, why couldn’t they have just let me ascend with the condition that I had to marry within five years or something? Why do I have to do it right this second?”

“Yeah, it’s total bullshit,” Lucrezia said. “I guess you could always get married, ascend the throne, and then immediately get divorced.”

Lorenzo actually cracked a smile at that. “Tempting, but it’d be awfully cruel to Clarice or whoever I end up marrying,” he said. “As much as I hate this entire situation, I have no choice but to try and make the best of it.”

“Very noble of you,” Lucrezia replied. “When is Clarice arriving?”

“Next week,” Lorenzo said. “And I was thinking, you and I should probably put a stop to this. I mean, we’re not the most subtle, everyone in the palace knows about it and I’m sure Clarice would notice quickly enough. And seeing as I’m trying to persuade her to marry me, it won’t make the best impression for me to already be sleeping with someone else.”

“Fair enough,” Lucrezia said with a grin. “We’ll be friends without benefits from now on.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lorenzo said, also smiling a little. But then he grew serious once more. “I just want to say…thank you. For always being such a good friend, benefits or not. You’re one of the only real friends I have.”

Lucrezia gave him a soft smile. “Same to you. Everyone else at court and in Parliament are such fake assholes.”

“Tell me about it.”

“When you’re crowned king, I will be expecting a noble title as thanks for my many years of friendship,” she joked. “And maybe some land to go with it.”

Lorenzo laughed. It felt good to laugh again. “Done.”

* * *

Francesco watched Jacopo pacing around the room. “Lorenzo’s found a potential wife much more quickly than I anticipated,” he said. “Clarice Orsini from Rome. She’s practically perfect, apparently. Lorenzo’s already invited her to Florence to get to know her.”

Francesco wasn’t sure why the thought of Lorenzo getting married gave him a stomachache. Maybe he’d just eaten too much at lunch. “Sounds like your plan’s been foiled,” he said.

 _“Our_ plan,” Jacopo said. “Surely you want to see the Medici off the throne as much as I do.”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I know just how you can help ensure that.”

“How?”

“Get Guglielmo to invite you to stay at the palace for as long as possible, ideally all the way until Lorenzo’s two-month deadline,” Jacopo said. “While you’re there, get close to Lorenzo. Distract him from this Orsini girl, make him fall for _you_ instead so that he won’t go through with the marriage in time.”

Francesco stared at him, not sure he was hearing this correctly. “You want me to… _seduce_ Lorenzo?” he said. “That’s your plan?”

“Is that a problem? You do like men, don’t you?” Jacopo said, an expression of distaste on his face. Francesco had come out to him against his better judgment, but to his relief Jacopo’s reaction had been dismissive rather than openly hostile; he’d taken _I’m bisexual_ to mean _I’m just going through a phase and will still end up married to a woman._

(Francesco had known that trying to argue with this would just be signing his own death warrant, so he’d quietly sat there and let Jacopo rant about young people these days trying to make themselves look special for attention, wondering how cruelty from someone who had been cruel to him for most of his life still continued to hurt so much.)

“Yes,” Francesco said now.

“And so does Lorenzo,” Jacopo said. “So, no problem.”

“Just because two guys are both into guys, it doesn’t automatically mean they’d be into each other,” Francesco said irritably.

Jacopo scoffed. “From what I hear, Lorenzo is ‘into’ anything that moves, so you should have no trouble,” he said. “Really, Francesco, this is such a simple thing I’m asking you to do. Are you capable of it or not?”

Francesco gritted his teeth, that familiar combination of annoyance and hurt at Jacopo’s disapproval washing over him. Seducing Lorenzo was an absurd thing to ask him to do, but Francesco had to admit that it was a decent plan for preventing him from getting married, and it wasn’t like he could think of a better plan anyway. Plus, Lorenzo _had_ seemed taken with him at the ball, so maybe it wouldn’t be that difficult.

And now that Jacopo was ordering him to chase after Lorenzo rather than trying to keep him away from him, here was the perfect excuse to spend time with him and get to know him again, Francesco couldn’t help but think. But he shoved the thought aside, reminding himself sternly that all he wanted was to see Lorenzo out of the line of succession.

“Of course I can do it,” Francesco said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the whole thing written already so updates should be pretty speedy, I just decided to pace it out rather than slamming you guys with all 30k at once (I got WAY too carried away with this fic oh my god)


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ve invited Francesco to come stay for a few weeks,” Guglielmo announced at dinner a couple days after the Parliament session. “We’ve barely seen each other since I came to live here because our uncle doesn’t approve, plus Francesco’s been in Rome most of that time, but now that he’s back permanently, he wants to spend some time together.”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. Guglielmo had been living in the palace for two whole years, and only now that the succession was in jeopardy was Francesco suddenly deigning to come visit him? Very convenient timing.

“How lovely. It’ll be nice to have him here,” Lucrezia said with a pleasant smile, nothing in her expression giving away the fact that the Medici had all been trash-talking Francesco and Jacopo three days prior. “What does your uncle think?”

“Francesco said he didn’t object, which surprised me,” Guglielmo said. “I guess maybe he’s finally giving up the feud as a lost cause.”

Personally, Lorenzo felt that was an awfully optimistic take on Jacopo’s unusual willingness to let Francesco mingle with the Medici. Giuliano seemed to agree, judging by how he snorted into his wineglass.

“So,” Lorenzo said later that night after Guglielmo had excused himself to go to bed, “Jacopo and Francesco are definitely up to something.

“Oh, unquestionably,” Lucrezia agreed. “Which means all of us will have to be on our guard while Francesco’s here.”

“But can you please try and be nice to him, though?” said Bianca, also on her way out of the room. “He means the world to Guglielmo, and I don’t want him thinking we all hate his entire family.”

“We _do_ all hate his entire family, because they _suck,”_ Giuliano said.

“Regardless of our personal feelings, we _will_ be polite to Francesco,” Lucrezia said, giving Giuliano a stern look. “He’ll be a guest in our home, and antagonizing him will only worsen the tension between our families. So, we’ll be on our guard while also being outwardly hospitable.”

“What if I physically cannot be hospitable to him?” Giuliano asked. “Like, I think I would die if I tried.”

Lucrezia embarked on a lecture about the importance of decorum and diplomacy, but Lorenzo hastily excused himself before she’d gotten too far and wandered away towards his bedroom, lost in thought. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how successful he’d be at being hospitable to Francesco either. He kept thinking back to their conversation at the ball and how much it stung now, knowing Francesco had just been trying to get close to him because he wanted to use him, rather than because he actually meant what he’d said about wanting to be friends again.

Lorenzo should’ve been used to this by now, people only wanting to befriend him because they wanted to take advantage of him or his position in some way, but it still hurt. Sometimes he was just so fucking _sick_ of the insincerity and empty flattery of the court. He could count on one hand the number of genuine friends he had—Lucrezia Donati, Sandro, Poliziano, and the Cavalcanti brothers.

Francesco had been the sixth, once. Not the sixth, the _first,_ Lorenzo’s first genuine friend, the first person in his affections, aside from his family. But now he was just like all the others, all the liars and flatterers and backstabbers.

Well, it was only a few weeks Lorenzo would have to put up with him at the palace, and then he’d go back home and Lorenzo would marry Clarice Orsini and ascend the throne and he’d never have to worry about the Pazzi again.

* * *

Francesco arrived a few days later, and the whole family gathered to greet him. As soon as Francesco stepped into the foyer, Lorenzo felt hurt and anger bubbling up inside him. Stupid Francesco and his stupid fucking face that definitely was _not_ somehow more beautiful than it had been at the ball. The ball at which Francesco had played him like a fiddle and Lorenzo had completely fallen for it, like a goddamn _idiot,_ and then his father had died the same night and now Lorenzo had to get married to assume the throne and the Pazzi were plotting against him somehow and Francesco was here purely to enable that plot, smiling and greeting them all as if he was their friend and not a snake trying to steal the crown from them, and all of this bullshit was really the last fucking thing Lorenzo wanted to deal with right now, couldn’t he just mourn his father in peace by curling up alone with Netflix and gelato and taking some time off, like a normal person?

_There’s a lot to unpack here,_ he could practically hear his old literature professor saying.

“Francesco, welcome,” Lucrezia said with a smile as Lorenzo was silently stewing and seething. “We’re so glad to have you here.”

“Your Majesty.” Francesco kissed her offered hand. “It was kind of you to invite me.”

“You invited yourself,” Giuliano muttered not nearly quietly enough, and Lucrezia shot him a look while Francesco just continued smirking that dumb, smug smirk of his.

He was wearing about ten times more hair gel than he had been at the ball, Lorenzo noticed, and an obnoxious number of obnoxiously expensive-looking rings. It made him look like an asshole. Well, at least now his exterior matched his interior, so it would be easy for Lorenzo not to get fooled like he had at the ball.

Guglielmo hugged Francesco and asked how he was, and Bianca hugged him too, the traitor, and then he turned to Lorenzo and Giuliano. “It’s nice to see you both,” he said.

“Speak for yourself,” Giuliano replied, earning another exasperated glance from Lucrezia.

But Francesco was unfazed. “I wanted to tell you all how sorry I am for your loss,” he continued.

“No, you’re not,” Giuliano said. “If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t be imposing your terrible company on us right now.”

“Giuliano,” Lucrezia said warningly. “Thank you, Francesco, that’s very thoughtful of you and we appreciate it.”

Francesco gave her another smile that was more of a smirk—Lorenzo’s internal monologue was going something like, _smug bastard smug bastard smug bastard_ —and looked back at Lorenzo. “I’m glad to have a chance to spend some time with you, Lorenzo,” he said. “I really enjoyed our conversation at the ball.”

_Our conversation during which you were trying to slither your way into my affections, you snake!_ “Hm,” Lorenzo said.

“I meant what I said about wanting to be friends again,” Francesco said. “I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I hope we can start again on a clean slate.”

_Yeah, clean except for the fact that you’re a lying liar who lies!_ “Hm,” Lorenzo said.

And now Francesco was breaking out the stupid smirk again and holding his hand out for Lorenzo to shake. “So, what do you say?”

Lorenzo stepped closer and took his hand, and he was extremely pissed off, but not _quite_ pissed off enough not to notice the little zip of electricity that went through him as they touched. But he squashed that down and gave Francesco a smile just as fake as all of his.

“I say, get fucked,” Lorenzo said, and he stomped on Francesco’s foot as hard as he could manage and stormed out of the room, the sound of Giuliano’s cackles and Lucrezia’s mortified apologies following him out.

* * *

“So it sounds like Operation Seduction is off to a pretty rough start,” Novella said on the other end of the phone.

Francesco groaned and flopped onto the bed in the guest suite he’d been escorted to after Lucrezia had apologized a dozen times and had someone get some ice for his foot. Which still _hurt,_ by the way. He wasn’t convinced Lorenzo hadn’t broken some of his toes.

“You can say that again,” he said. “I have no idea what Lorenzo’s so mad at me about. He seemed happy to see me at the ball, so I figured seducing him would be no problem. What could’ve changed in just a couple weeks?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe his dad dying and him preparing to ascend the throne and Parliament forcing him to get married within two months?”

“But what has any of that got to do with me?”

“It could just be general stress that he took out on you,” Novella said. “Or maybe he suspects that you and your uncle are working against him. It’s common knowledge the throne would fall to you if all three Medici refused or were deemed ineligible, and I heard that your uncle was the one pushing Parliament to uphold the marriage law for Lorenzo. So it wouldn’t take a genius to guess that you guys are up to something.”

Francesco pondered this. Okay, yeah, maybe he and Jacopo weren’t exactly paragons of subtlety. “I guess,” he admitted. “Either way, it sucks and is making my job so much harder than it needs to be. I thought that if anything, he’d be easier to seduce right now. Emotionally vulnerable and all that.”

“You mean, your plan was to take advantage of his grief?” Novella said.

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Francesco said defensively. “And I can’t believe you’re judging me right now, aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“Hey, look, I’m a Venetian, you know I couldn’t give two fucks who ends up on the throne of Florence. Scheme all you want to oust the Medici, it makes no difference to me,” Novella said. “I’m only saying that it seems kind of shitty to be playing with Lorenzo’s heart right now when he’s already hurting over his dad’s death. You lost your parents too, how would you feel in his shoes?”

“Leave my parents out of this,” Francesco snapped, hating the unpleasant churning in his stomach that felt suspiciously like guilt.

“All right, all right, chill,” Novella said mildly, and to Francesco’s relief she changed the subject. “What’s your plan for getting Lorenzo to stop being mad at you?”

“No clue,” he said. “I guess just be nice to him until he’s not mad anymore?”

“Ha, good luck! I’ve never seen you be nice for longer than twenty minutes at a time.”

“Fuck off,” Francesco said, even though it was true.

* * *

One perk of living in a giant palace was that Lorenzo managed to evade Lucrezia for half the day before she finally cornered him sulking in the library. “Would you care to explain yourself?” she demanded. “I knew Giuliano’s rudeness would be a problem, but I expected better of you, Lorenzo. What on earth came over you? Francesco was still limping, last I saw of him.” Lorenzo snickered. “It’s not funny.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” said Lorenzo, who wasn’t at all sorry. “He just got on my nerves and I snapped.”

“You’re about to be our king, Lorenzo. You can’t _snap,_ no matter how much people provoke you,” Lucrezia said. “And Francesco was hardly provoking you, he was being perfectly polite.”

“He wasn’t being polite, he was being fake,” Lorenzo said. “When we spoke at the ball, I believed every word he said and I was so happy he wanted to be friends again, so how do you think I felt when I realized he and Jacopo are trying to steal the crown from our family? I felt so stupid for trusting Francesco when he was only being nice to get close to me so I’d be easier to manipulate. I’m tired of everyone always wanting something from me or smiling to my face while working against me behind closed doors. So yeah, I snapped.”

Lucrezia’s expression had softened, and she took the chair beside him. “I can understand that. I know how hard it is to figure out who you can trust in this environment, and how much it hurts when you get it wrong,” she said. “But it’s something you just have to get used to, and you can never let your personal feelings influence your public behavior. You _must_ exercise diplomacy, always.”

“I know,” Lorenzo said with a sigh. “And…I’m sorry I lost my temper with Francesco. I have to apologize to him, don’t I?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Ugh.”

Lucrezia chuckled, and they were quiet for a minute. “How did you deal with it, entering the royal family after growing up with a normal life?” Lorenzo asked. “Well, I mean, your family was rich and noble, but still, you must’ve had a more normal childhood than we did, right?”

“Yes, relatively normal. As the daughter of a count, I didn’t get treated too differently by my classmates at school, certainly nothing like how it was for you three,” Lucrezia said. “I was familiar with the court from a young age, but it was still difficult being thrust into it so directly when I got engaged to your father. I learned the hard way who my real friends were and who only wanted to use me for their own advantage. There were many times when I would’ve liked to stomp on some feet myself.”

Lorenzo laughed. “But I _did_ have a few real friends who always stood by me and whose trust I never had to question. Francesco and Guglielmo’s mother was one of them,” Lucrezia said with a hint of sadness, and Lorenzo nodded. He remembered she and Nicolosa had been very close; it was the reason he and Francesco had been friends practically since birth.

“And most importantly,” Lucrezia continued, “I had one person who I could always count on no matter what, one person who truly understood me and vice versa, one person with whom I could take off the diplomatic mask and just be myself after a long day of court politics.”

Lorenzo took in the wistful expression on her face. “Dad,” he said.

“Exactly. And that’s the sort of person I hope for you to marry too,” Lucrezia said. “Someone who can be a true partner to you in every sense of the word. When we’re young, we all have dreams of true love and romance, but the truth is, a marriage built on mutual respect and fondness is much sturdier in the long run than one built on infatuation and attraction.”

“But I _want_ attraction and romance and true love,” Lorenzo said, feeling naïve even as he said it. “All of that doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive with respect and fondness. I want to marry someone who makes me feel _all_ of those things, not just some of them.”

Lucrezia sighed and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know. I felt the same way at your age. I was hesitant about marrying your father when our parents arranged it, but he was so kind and lovely and I quickly found a friend in him. Within a year, that friendship had blossomed into true love, a true love we never would have found if we hadn’t been obligated to marry,” she said. “Lorenzo, you’re my son and I value your happiness above all else, so if you truly, _truly_ wish to remain unmarried and let the throne pass to Bianca, I’ll support you. But I beg you to at least give Clarice a chance when she arrives. With time, you may find love and romance growing where you didn’t expect it, just as I did.”

Lorenzo let her words sink in for a moment, and then he nodded. “I will,” he said, and he meant it. Because as much as that naïve part of him dreamed of true love, he knew that real life didn’t work like that, especially not for him. He loved Florence too much to turn his back on it now for selfish reasons, and he already knew, without even having met her yet, that he would marry Clarice and choose duty over his personal happiness, just as he’d been trained to do all his life.

* * *

Fortunately, Lorenzo didn’t see any more of Francesco that day except for dinner, during which he stiffly apologized for the morning’s incident and Francesco waved it away with yet another smirk. Lorenzo was genuinely starting to wonder if his face was capable of making any other expression.

(But then he remembered that smile from when they’d danced together at the ball. The smile that had been like his old best friend shining through.)

He couldn’t sleep that night, too preoccupied by the prospect of Clarice’s arrival tomorrow afternoon. What would she be like? What if she was annoying or boring or if he just didn’t connect with her? What if they had nothing in common? What if they couldn’t make it even to mutual respect and fondness, let alone love?

Frowning, Lorenzo got out of bed and padded silently through the halls on bare feet, hoping none of the night staff would see him and ask if he needed anything. He made a beeline for the kitchens, thinking that some gelato was just what he needed to relax. He expected them to be deserted at this time of night, but when he stepped inside, there was someone already there.

Francesco. Sitting at the counter and looking right at home, eating gelato straight out of the carton. And not just any gelato. _Lorenzo’s_ gelato.

He looked up at Lorenzo’s footsteps and smirked at him, and Lorenzo glared right back, nine parts irritated and one part flustered at how cute Francesco looked in a T-shirt and pajama pants, his hair all tousled and free of gel. Okay, maybe seven parts irritated and three parts flustered.

“That’s _my_ gelato,” Lorenzo said, immediately hating how childish he sounded.

Francesco raised his eyebrows. “Yours in a loose sense, as in everything in this palace technically belongs to you, or—”

“Mine as in _mine,_ as in, I’ve been eating out of that carton for weeks and no one else is allowed to.”

Francesco, the utter bastard, just shrugged and dug out another spoonful. “Well, this is my favorite flavor,” he said.

It was Lorenzo’s favorite flavor too. Hence why it was _his carton._ “Couldn’t you at least have scooped some into a bowl? You’re getting germs all in it.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not sick.” Francesco swallowed the mouthful of gelato and slowly licked the remainder off his lips, somehow managing to continue looking smug the whole time. “All we’re doing is sharing saliva,” he said innocently. “You don’t think it’s gross when that happens via other methods, do you?”

Lorenzo felt himself blushing and hated it. Was Francesco _flirting_ with him? What the hell was his game here? “What are you doing here anyway?” he said. “Invading my home isn’t enough for you, now you have to be ruining my midnight snack trips too?”

“I was hungry and went to look for food. How was I supposed to know you’d also be making a midnight snack trip right now?” Francesco said, which was a fair point, not that Lorenzo was willing to concede it. “And I’m not invading your home, I’m just here to spend time with my brother. I apologize if my presence upsets you.”

“Cut the crap, we both know that’s not why you’re here,” Lorenzo said impatiently. “You and your uncle are up to something. I don’t know what, but I’m going to find out and I’m not going to fall for your tricks either. So you can take all your convenient excuses and your lies about wanting friendship and shove them.”

Lorenzo strode over and snatched the gelato and spoon out of his hands, then shoveled a bite into his own mouth to prove a point. But to his annoyance, Francesco didn’t look at all bothered, just sat there still with that stupid smirk on his face.

They remained in silence for a moment or two, Lorenzo angrily eating gelato and Francesco smugly watching him. Then Francesco stood and walked over to him. Lorenzo’s heart sped up as Francesco leaned in so close to his face, so close Lorenzo could feel his breath against his skin. For a wild moment he thought Francesco was going to kiss him.

For a wild moment, he _wanted_ him to.

But all Francesco said was, “You’ve got chocolate on your mouth.” He reached out to gently take hold of Lorenzo’s chin, his thumb coming up to run across his lower lip, wiping the chocolate away. Lorenzo thought he was going to pass out. Either that or punch him. Or maybe headbutt him, as his hands were occupied with the gelato.

Francesco let go of him and took a step back, then gave him one last smirk and turned around and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Lorenzo standing there alone, angry, flustered, and confused.

* * *

Francesco was in much better spirits the next morning. His bare minimum flirting attempt had gotten Lorenzo all red and flustered, so maybe seducing him would be easy after all. Judging by last night, he clearly felt some degree of subconscious attraction towards Francesco, even if he was currently mad at him, so Francesco just had to work on making that subconscious attraction conscious, and boom, job done. Lorenzo was a notorious hoe anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

The only potential obstacle was Clarice. Francesco had done a bit of research beforehand to find out as much about her as he could, and the results did worry him a little. She sounded like an annoyingly good person, which was something that another annoyingly good person like Lorenzo would surely appreciate and, worse, something in which Francesco couldn’t hope to compete with her. Forget being a good person, it was taking all his energy merely not to be openly hostile to the Medici right now.

He accompanied them to welcome Clarice that afternoon when her car arrived. They were all wearing fancier outfits than they had for his arrival the day before, which offended Francesco. Apparently _he_ didn’t deserve to have the red carpet rolled out.

Clarice was accompanied by Carlo de’ Medici, who lived in Rome and knew her well, according to Guglielmo. “Carlo, it’s so wonderful to have you stay with us for a while,” Lucrezia said, moving forward to give him a hug. “It’s been too long since you’ve been able to stay for more than a few days at a time.”

“Yes, it has,” Carlo said, kissing her on both cheeks before stepping back to indicate Clarice. “It’s my pleasure to introduce my dear friend, Clarice Orsini.”

“Welcome, Lady Clarice, we’re thrilled to have you here,” Lucrezia said, giving her a warm smile and offering her hand.

Clarice took it and kissed her ring. “I’m honored by the invitation, Your Majesty,” she said, the perfect picture of grace.

Francesco observed her closely, trying to gauge if she seemed like the sort of person who would pique Lorenzo’s interest. She was certainly pretty, but nothing remarkable, in his opinion, though granted, he had a general preference for men and it typically took an unusually stunning woman to catch his eye. Whereas Lorenzo’s tastes were definitely not as specific, judging from everything Francesco had heard about him.

His gaze slid to Lorenzo. He was very focused on Clarice, but his expression was one of simple curiosity rather than instant attraction, which soothed Francesco somewhat.

“This is my son, Lorenzo,” Lucrezia was saying to Clarice.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” Clarice said with a respectful nod.

“The pleasure is mine,” Lorenzo said. “And please, call me Lorenzo.”

Lucrezia went on to introduce Giuliano, Bianca, Guglielmo, and Francesco, and then Clarice was escorted to her rooms and the rest of them dispersed. Francesco wandered after Guglielmo and Bianca since they were the only people here who didn’t hate him. “She seems nice,” Bianca said. “I think Lorenzo will get along with her.”

“How can you possibly tell? All she did was say hello and suck up to everyone,” Francesco grumbled.

“Aw, Francesco, are you jealous?” Guglielmo said, grinning at him.

“Jealous?!” Francesco spluttered. “Of _what,_ exactly?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that time when we were little and you announced to Mom and Dad that Lorenzo had promised to marry you someday and make you his king? And now Clarice is taking your place.”

Guglielmo and Bianca were both cracking up now, and Francesco glared at them, hating the heat he could feel on his cheeks. “Shut _up,”_ he said. “You’re misremembering.”

“They did give their blessing, for the record,” Guglielmo told Bianca.

“This is the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Bianca said gleefully.

“I hate you both,” Francesco said.

* * *

“I love the arts, I love philosophy and poetry,” Lorenzo was saying. “Any of the higher callings.”

Clarice raised her eyebrows. “The higher callings?”

Shit. Did that sound pretentious? That definitely sounded pretentious. “Well, I-I don’t just mean the higher callings,” Lorenzo stuttered, trying to ignore Bianca and Giuliano barely stifling laughter beside him. “I like…horse riding, uh, all forms of sport…” Clarice still looked skeptical. He had to fix this, fast. “I suppose I like everything, really.”

Nope, that just made it worse, now he just sounded like a tool who was desperately trying to impress her. Which was exactly what he was, for the record. Clarice forced a smile and quickly glanced away, her expression clearly saying how much she regretted this trip. Oh, this was Lorenzo’s nightmare. Since when was he so bad at flirting?

Maybe because all he knew how to do was flirt to get someone into bed. He had no _idea_ how to flirt to get someone into marriage.

“Would you excuse me for a little while?” Clarice said politely. “I should finish unpacking, and I promised to call my mother before dinner.”

“Of course,” Lucrezia said. “Make yourself at home, and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything. We’ll be having dinner at eight, Maria can show you where the dining room is.”

Clarice thanked her and left. “Please do tell us more about the higher callings, Lorenzo,” Bianca said, and Giuliano fully burst out laughing.

Lorenzo felt his cheeks heat up. “Shut up.”

She did not. “Seriously, I’ve never experienced so much secondhand embarrassment in my life.”

“It’s not my fault, we have nothing in common,” Lorenzo said. “I have no idea what to say to her.”

“Don’t write her off so quickly. The first meeting is always awkward,” Lucrezia soothed him. “I’m sure you’ll discover plenty of other things you have in common as you get to know each other, even if you don’t share the same intellectual interests.”

Lorenzo tried to take her words to heart and remain optimistic. The dinnertime conversation went a little better, although Lucrezia was carrying most of it, and as they were all leaving the table, Lorenzo took Clarice aside. “Would you like to go for a walk out in the gardens?” he asked. “They’re beautiful this time of year, I thought you might like to see them. Unless you’re tired, of course, it’s a long drive from Rome and maybe you’d prefer to go to bed early.”

“No, I would love to see the gardens,” Clarice said, sounding sincere, and Lorenzo internally let out a sigh of relief.

Stilted small talk with long pauses made up the conversation as they walked down to the gardens and then started strolling through them. Lorenzo pointed out his favorite spots and places that had amusing childhood memories associated with them, and Clarice seemed interested enough listening to all of that.

Nevertheless, he was still embarrassed about his earlier bad impression. “I wanted to apologize for before,” he said during a silence. “I came off like such an idiot.”

“No, you didn’t, not at all,” Clarice said. Lorenzo knew she was lying through her teeth, but he appreciated it. “We have different interests, that’s all.”

Lorenzo nodded and took a seat on a nearby stone bench. After a moment’s hesitation, Clarice sat beside him. “You know the real reason we invited you here?” he asked.

Clarice met his eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

“And would you…be interested?”

“It’s in my family’s best interests,” Clarice said.

“I didn’t ask about your family’s interests. I asked about yours,” Lorenzo said gently.

Clarice looked down at her hands. “In all honesty…a few years ago I wanted to take my vows and become a nun, devote my life to serving God, but my parents talked me out of it,” she said after a pause. “So I…I never really wanted to marry anyone, but you seem very kind and thoughtful, and I think I could be happy with you. And maybe I could do more good and help more people as the queen of Florence than I could’ve as a nun anyway.”

Lorenzo smiled slightly, marveling at how genuinely selfless she was. Thinking about where she could do the most good, rather than what would make her happiest. Exactly the way a queen should think. The way Lorenzo tried to think himself, even if he often didn’t succeed.

“I think you could do a lot of good for Florence,” he agreed. “So, will you stay? At least long enough for us to get to know each other, I don’t think either of us can promise anything beyond that for now.”

“Yes,” Clarice said with a small smile. “I’d like to stay.”


	3. Chapter 3

**6 Weeks Later**

“I gave you one task,” Jacopo was fuming. “One unbelievably simple task, and you couldn’t even do that much?”

“I’m _trying_ , Uncle,” Francesco said, doing his best to keep his voice even. “But Clarice has been so plastered to Lorenzo’s side, it’s been impossible for me to get him alone even for a moment. If anything, now that the engagement is secure, maybe they won’t be spending so much time together getting to know each other and I can finally make some progress.”

“For your sake, you’d better hope so,” Jacopo said. “I hope I don’t have to remind you how much is riding on you breaking up the engagement. If I could do this without having to rely on you and your incompetence, believe me, I would.”

_But you can’t, because I’m the one with the claim to the throne, not you. You need me. You’re nothing without me._ “I understand, Uncle,” Francesco said, hating himself for not being brave enough to say any of that. “I’m sorry.”

“You only have two weeks until the wedding. Don’t waste them.” Jacopo hung up on him without waiting for a response. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Francesco pocketed his phone and strode out of his room, intending to go for a walk to cool down.

Everything was going to shit. Lorenzo and Clarice were officially engaged, and Lorenzo still wanted nothing to do with Francesco, which meant that Operation Seduction was at a total standstill, which meant that Jacopo was furious with him, which meant that Francesco needed to somehow kick Operation Seduction into high gear or it would spell big trouble for him.

And on top of all that, every time he saw Lorenzo and Clarice together, every time he glanced at the engagement ring on her finger, some kind of weird, negative emotion would gnaw at his insides, though he couldn’t identify it. Whatever it was, it was making his life more difficult, that was for sure.

_“This ring is very special,” Contessina said, pointing at the gold and emerald ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. “It’s the ring your grandfather gave to me when he asked me to marry him.”_

_“Cool!” Lorenzo said._

_Francesco leaned in for a closer look, admiring the way the light reflected off the dark green stone, like there was a flame trapped inside it. “It’s so pretty.”_

_“You’ll have this ring someday, Lorenzo,” Contessina told him. “To give to_ your _future wife.”_

_“What if I want a husband? Nonno said boys can marry each other now, right?” Lorenzo asked. “Like Francesco, can I give the ring to him?”_

_Contessina laughed. “Of course, as long as Francesco wants to marry you too.”_

_“Please, Francesco?” Lorenzo said hopefully. “We can be kings together!”_

_Francesco beamed at him, unable to think of anything better than marrying his best friend. And getting to wear that pretty ring. “Okay,” he said. “But I’ll have to ask my parents first to see if they say I can.”_

Now that ring was sitting on Clarice’s finger, and this annoying memory tugged at Francesco’s mind every single time he looked at it.

He stomped down a corridor, stewing in his bad mood. The only bright spot in everything was that Novella’s father, a representative of the Doge of Venice, was making a diplomatic visit to Florence next week and would be staying up through the royal wedding at the end of the month, and Novella would be coming with him. Thank God. Francesco was going crazy stuck in this palace without any sane person to talk to except his brother.

He turned the corner and stopped short when he saw Lorenzo sitting on the stairs, reading. “Lorenzo?” he said before he could stop himself. “What are you doing?”

Lorenzo jumped and looked up at him. “Hiding from the wedding planners and my mother,” he said. “What are _you_ doing?”

“Walking.”

“Wow, no shit.”

Francesco approached him, and Lorenzo marked his place in his book and got to his feet. “Congratulations on your engagement, by the way,” Francesco said rather sarcastically.

“Thank you,” Lorenzo said. “Clarice is just wonderful, isn’t she? _So_ kind and _so_ beautiful and _so_ smart.”

“Oh yes, truly the perfect queen, I applaud your choice,” Francesco said. “And since she’ll be such a perfect queen, I’m sure you won’t mind being bored to tears every minute you spend in her company.”

He went up a few stairs towards Lorenzo, and Lorenzo moved further up them out of spite. “I beg your pardon? Clarice is an extremely interesting conversationalist,” he said. “Not that you’d know anything about that, seeing as having a conversation with _you_ is like getting teeth pulled.”

“At least getting teeth pulled makes you feel _something.”_

“Yeah, pain and annoyance.”

They’d reached the top of the stairs now. “Admit it, you never would’ve married her if you’d had the choice,” Francesco said. “If you could’ve picked anyone in the whole world to marry, someone like her never would’ve even crossed your mind.”

Lorenzo glared at him. Francesco was confident he’d hit a nerve. “And who exactly do you think I would’ve picked, then?” he said.

“Someone who’s not afraid to argue with you,” Francesco said, taking a step closer, and this time Lorenzo didn’t back away. “Someone who tells you what you need to hear, rather than what you want to hear. You are so used to people bending over backwards to make you happy, and you hate it. You want someone who challenges you, pushes back against you. Does Clarice do that? Or does she just go along with whatever you want the way everyone else does?”

Lorenzo opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, they heard Lucrezia’s voice coming down the corridor. “Lorenzo? For God’s sake, where _is_ he?”

Looking alarmed, Lorenzo grabbed Francesco’s arm and yanked him into a nearby storage closet, where they waited until they’d heard Lucrezia pass by. “This is cozy,” Francesco remarked; the closet wasn’t particularly spacious and they were pressed up against each other.

“Shut up,” Lorenzo said as he flicked the lightswitch on.

Smirking, Francesco turned it off again just to annoy him. Lorenzo sighed angrily and turned it back on. “Can you just leave me alone?” he said. “You don’t know anything about Clarice or my relationship with her, and it’s none of your business anyway. We’re happy and I like her.”

“You like her,” Francesco said. “But you don’t love her.”

“Well, of course I can’t love her yet, I only met her six weeks ago.”

“And you want to marry someone you only _like?”_

“I don’t have a choice. Your uncle made sure of that,” Lorenzo said. “But I’ll grow to love her.”

“What if you don’t? What if you spend the rest of your life married to someone you only like?” Francesco asked.

Lorenzo remained silent and scowled at him, which Francesco took to mean he’d hit another nerve. “I know you don’t want to marry a relative stranger. You want to marry someone you know, and who knows you. Someone who’s always known you, the _real_ you, not the public façade most people see,” Francesco said very softly, so close to Lorenzo that he could feel his breath on his face. “You don’t want someone who knew you first as His Highness. You want someone who’s always seen you as just Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo swallowed and still didn’t say anything. Didn’t deny it. He licked his lips, and Francesco’s eyes were drawn to the movement of his tongue. He leaned in a little closer and—

The door flew open. “Lorenzo, what the hell are you doing in—oh my God!”

They sprang apart, knocking several cleaning products off the shelves in the process, and Francesco turned to see Giuliano standing there gaping at them. Then he burst out laughing. “Sorry, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, shutting the door again.

“Dammit—fuck off, Francesco—Giuliano, wait,” Lorenzo said, wrenching the door open again and hurrying out, then slamming it in Francesco’s face.

Rolling his eyes, Francesco opened it and stepped out in time to see Lorenzo catching up with Giuliano at the end of the corridor. “…just talking,” he was insisting to a cackling Giuliano. “How’d you know I was in there anyway?”

“Mom told me to look for you, and you guys were talking pretty loudly in there just now, which kind of defeats the purpose of hiding in a closet. Unless that wasn’t the _actual_ reason you dragged Francesco in there with you, of course.”

“Shut _up,_ we weren’t…”

They turned the corner and their voices faded to silence, leaving Francesco alone with his thoughts. He leaned against the wall, letting out a breath. He’d almost kissed Lorenzo. _This is great,_ he told himself. _Operation Seduction is making progress._

But standing there in that closet with Lorenzo so close to him, leaning in towards him…Francesco hadn’t been thinking of Operation Seduction at all.

* * *

Shortly after Novella’s arrival in Florence, Francesco was walking around the palace grounds with her to update her on Operation Seduction. “If this thing really works, you’re going to go down as the most infamous homewrecker in history,” she remarked. “Making the king of Florence abandon his fiancée at the altar for you, only to then break his heart and steal his crown. Brutal.”

“He’s not king yet, nor will he be at the wedding,” Francesco said. “And there won’t _be_ a wedding, I’m going to break up the engagement sooner than that. Making him abandon her at the altar, how trashy do you think I am?”

“Given that you’re talking about breaking up the engagement of someone you’re only pretending to have feelings for, pretty trashy,” Novella said, though she was clearly amused rather than passing moral judgment on him. This was why she was his best friend. “Anyway, _if_ you do succeed, you will have my everlasting respect and I’ll never say a word about your terrible flirting game again.”

“I’m not a terrible flirt!” Francesco said indignantly.

“You are the worst flirt I’ve ever met in my life, and the only reason it’s working on Lorenzo is because he’s the most easily-seduced person I’ve ever met in my life.”

“What, you think it’s just that he’s horny and dumb, and not that he actually likes me?” Francesco said.

Novella raised her eyebrows. “Would it upset you if that was the case?”

“No, of course not,” Francesco said too quickly. “I don’t give a shit what his actual feelings are, as long as the wedding doesn’t happen. If it’s because Lorenzo falls in love with me and doesn’t want to marry someone else, or if it’s because he sleeps with me and Clarice finds out and gets mad and leaves him, it makes no difference.”

Novella’s eyebrows were practically in her hair at this point. “Are you saying you’re prepared to actually _sleep with_ Lorenzo?”

Francesco felt himself turning red. “No—well—I mean—if it gets the job done, I’ll do anything.”

She started to laugh. “Oh my _God,”_ she said. “You’re totally into him.”

“What?! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“You are! You tried to seduce him and caught feelings yourself! You’re such an idiot!”

“I did not catch feelings!” Francesco said, horrified at the mere thought. “I hate him and all I want is to see him out of the succession!”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

They rounded a corner of the palace and a different part of the lawn came into view, where they could see Lorenzo practicing archery for the coronation ceremony, during which he’d have to shoot a flaming arrow through a hoop. Francesco had no idea how that absurd tradition had come about, but it was unshakeable, no matter how bad the monarch-to-be was at archery.

Which, in Lorenzo’s case, was apparently pretty bad, judging by the arrows Francesco could see littering the lawn, none of which were even close to the target. “Oh, look, it’s your boyfriend,” Novella teased, quietly, but even so Francesco elbowed her. “Why don’t we sit and watch him for a while?”

Francesco allowed himself to be dragged over to sit underneath a nearby tree, though he was complaining the whole time. “It’s too hot. I mean the _weather,”_ he hastened to add as he saw a mischievous glint come into Novella’s eye. “I don’t want to sit out here, can we just go back inside and—”

_THWACK_

Francesco threw himself to the ground on instinct as he felt something woosh over his head, then heard Novella laughing and looked up to see that there was an arrow embedded in the tree trunk barely above where his head had just been. He sat up straight and turned to glare at Lorenzo.

Who did look mortified and genuinely apologetic, to be fair. “Sorry!” he called.

“I would appreciate not getting killed today,” Francesco called back.

“No need to worry, sir, we’re using blunted arrows for that very reason,” Lorenzo’s instructor told him, which was hardly comforting.

Francesco _hmph_ -ed and crossed his arms. Novella reached up to pull the arrow out of the tree and waved it at him. “Shot from Cupid’s bow?” she teased.

“It missed me,” Francesco retorted. Against his will, his gaze slid back over to Lorenzo. _I think,_ he added silently.

* * *

Lorenzo and Clarice’s informal engagement party was a week after the closet incident. The formal party—a ball with hundreds of guests—had taken place a few nights earlier, whereas the informal one was a garden party luncheon just for close friends.

“You have a lot of close friends,” Clarice said as she gazed around at the fifty or so people milling about with finger sandwiches and lemonade.

“‘Close friends’ is a very loose term around here,” Lorenzo said. “If it was my actual close friends, there would be about five guests, and way more alcohol.”

Clarice laughed and took his offered arm as he made his way through the party to introduce her to everybody. Once they’d met and made small talk with everyone in the immediate vicinity, they went to take a turn around the lawn. And because the universe hated Lorenzo, they ran into Francesco by the entrance to the hedge maze.

Because the universe _really_ hated Lorenzo, Francesco wasn’t alone. “Lucrezia?” Lorenzo said, dumbfounded to see one of his closest friends on the arm of his most hated enemy. Well, second most hated, after Jacopo. “Since when do you two know each other?”

“Oh, my ex-husband is a close political ally of the Pazzi. Francesco and I go way back, we’ve suffered through many boring business dinners together,” Lucrezia said. “I’m surprised I never mentioned that to you.”

Lorenzo was about to make a witty remark about how the two of them hadn’t done much _talking_ when they spent time together, but figured Clarice would not appreciate it and kept it to himself. Instead he said, “So now you’re, what, dating?” The thought made him burn with something like jealousy.

But not because of Lucrezia, he realized with no small amount of horror. It wasn’t her he was jealous to see with somebody else. It was Francesco.

Fuck.

“No, we only came together to this because we’ve always gotten along so well,” Francesco said, annoying smirk and annoying hair gel securely in place this afternoon. “But who knows what the future might hold?”

Lorenzo looked to Lucrezia for confirmation of this worrying prediction, but she wasn’t even listening, too busy looking at Clarice with marked interest. It was only then that Lorenzo finally realized he hadn’t introduced her, but in his defense, there were a lot of hard-to-process things going on.

“Lucrezia, this is my fiancée, Clarice Orsini,” he said. “Clarice, Lucrezia Donati, an old friend of mine. And apparently also of Francesco’s.”

“I’m so pleased to finally meet you, Lady Clarice,” Lucrezia said, smiling at her. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about you.”

Clarice smiled back. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say. It’s lovely to meet you too,” she said. “You said your ex-husband is a politician? Is that how you and Lorenzo met?”

“Yes, he’s in Parliament. Stuffy old miser, divorcing him was the best thing I ever did,” Lucrezia said with an eyeroll, and Lorenzo could hear Clarice trying to suppress a giggle. “Although it was because of him that I was attending some function or other years ago where I met Lorenzo, so I suppose he hasn’t only brought me misery. But I shouldn’t be saying things like that to an engaged woman! Tell me, how are you liking Florence?”

“Very much,” Clarice said. “I’ve only been here once before during university, just for a few days that time, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know the city and people this past month.”

“What university did you attend?”

“Sapienza,” Lorenzo said before Clarice could answer. “She has a masters in theology, she’s incredibly smart.”

“Well, Lucrezia has a masters in literature from the University of Florence,” Francesco cut in.

“Yes, I know that,” Lorenzo said. “Did _you_ know that Clarice founded an entire charitable organization in Rome? She’s thinking of expanding it into Florence as well. I really admire how selfless and talented she is.”

“Lucrezia is also very talented, she works at a respected law firm and has been entirely financially self-sufficient since the divorce, which isn’t something any of the three of us can say for ourselves,” Francesco said.

“And that’s admirable, but Clarice—”

“Okay, I don’t want to be part of whatever dick-measuring contest it is that you two are having here,” Lucrezia interrupted. “Lady Clarice, shall we go elsewhere so you can tell me all about your many accomplishments in your own words?”

“Please,” Clarice said, looking relieved, and she followed Lucrezia away with only a quick apologetic glance back at Lorenzo.

Now Lorenzo was all alone with Francesco and the memory of the closet incident and the growing realization that maybe his feelings towards him weren’t quite what they should be, and all of this was very unpleasant. “You are the most annoying person I’ve ever had the misfortune to know,” he told him, and he stomped off into the hedge maze to be alone for a little while.

So of course Francesco followed him. “What’s wrong? Jealous?” he said, sounding infuriatingly smug.

“Oh, is that the reason you came with Lucrezia as your date? To make me jealous?” Lorenzo said with a scoff. “Well, it didn’t work, because I’m engaged to the most perfect woman in the world and there’s nothing about you and Lucrezia dating that I envy.”

“Uh-huh. That explains why you were so annoyed to see us together.”

Lorenzo gritted his teeth and walked faster. “Can you just get lost somewhere in this maze and stop following me?”

“This isn’t really a maze, there’s only one path to the center,” Francesco said. “It’s physically impossible to get lost in here.”

Sure enough, they arrived at the center a minute later and came to a halt in front of the fountain there. “You’re the one who’s jealous,” Lorenzo said. “You’re jealous of Clarice. Why else would you keep following me around trying to convince me that our marriage won’t work?”

“Why would I be jealous of Clarice? She has to spend the rest of her life married to you,” Francesco said without missing a beat.

“You—” Lorenzo spluttered in indignation. “I loathe you!”

“I loathe _you,”_ Francesco replied, though he looked more amused than anything.

“I loathed you first!” Lorenzo snapped, stepping closer to get right in his face.

Francesco just looked at him for a second, and before Lorenzo knew what was happening, their mouths were crashing together in a kiss. Lorenzo closed his eyes and melted into the kiss, getting lost in the moment as he slid his arms around Francesco’s waist and felt Francesco’s around his neck, felt his mouth moving in perfect sync with his, felt his heart beating against his chest. Felt fireworks going off in his heart, fireworks that were never there in all his chaste pecks on the lips with Clarice—

Wait, shit. Clarice.

Lorenzo’s eyes flew open and he tried to push Francesco away, except that he misstepped and ended up sending them both tumbling into the fountain.

“Dammit!” Lorenzo sat up, coughing and pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me? You’re the one who just pushed me into a fountain!” Francesco said. “And ruined my hair!”

“Good, because your hair looked stupid! And I wouldn’t have pushed you if you hadn’t kissed me!” Lorenzo said. “You can’t just kiss engaged people!”

“Please, you liked it,” Francesco said. “You kissed me right back.”

Lorenzo couldn’t deny that, so he shoved Francesco’s head underwater again and clambered out of the fountain as gracefully as he could manage (which wasn’t gracefully at all). “You used to be my best friend,” he said as Francesco reemerged, spluttering. “You used to be my favorite person in the whole world. What happened to you to make you such an _asshole?”_

Francesco met his eyes, and for a moment the arrogant mask slipped away to reveal something vulnerable and almost hurt underneath. But Lorenzo turned his back on him and stormed off before he could say anything.

As if things weren’t bad enough, his mother was standing right at the maze entrance chatting with Novella and Andrea Foscari, though the conversation broke off when Lorenzo emerged dripping wet and furious. Lucrezia closed her eyes for a moment, as if praying for patience, then opened them again and said tiredly, “Do I _want_ to know?”

“Nope,” Lorenzo said, and he squelched up to the palace, leaving puddles in his wake.

Once he’d reached the solitude of his room and changed into dry clothes, he found himself thinking back to that vulnerability on Francesco’s face. And thinking back to his observation at the ball two months ago, his observation that Francesco’s childhood light was mostly suppressed now. Lorenzo hadn’t understood why at the time, but now that he’d lost a parent himself, he realized, didn’t he also smile and laugh less now than he had before his father’s death? Hadn’t the loss changed him in some way, forced him to grow up, put some weight on his shoulders?

And how much stronger would the effect have been if he’d lost both his parents at age nine, like Francesco had? Wouldn’t going to live under Jacopo Pazzi’s roof at such a young and impressionable age turn anyone into an asshole? To what extent was Francesco responsible for his own current assholery, and to what extent was he just a victim of his cruel surroundings?

Lorenzo sighed and went over to look out the window, gazing down at the garden party below and trying to gather up the energy to return to it. What was Francesco doing to him? Making him feel so angry one minute and then sympathetic the next. Lorenzo couldn’t figure him out, and he couldn’t understand what was happening to his own feelings either.

Why had he enjoyed that kiss so much?

Lorenzo shook his head and tried to clear his mind of anything Francesco-related, then finally left his room and went back down to the party. Clarice seemed to believe his vague excuses as to why he’d fallen into a fountain, and apparently had been so absorbed talking to Lucrezia Donati that she hadn’t even noticed his prolonged absence anyway, but when Lorenzo’s mother caught him alone later after the party had ended, she wasn’t appeased so easily.

“Do you have any idea how much work I had to do to smooth over your appearing out of the maze soaking wet, with Francesco following you shortly afterwards also soaking wet?” she demanded. “You’re engaged, Lorenzo. Whatever’s going on between you and Francesco has to stop.”

Lorenzo felt himself blushing. “There’s nothing going on!”

“Oh really? Falling into fountains with him, hiding in closets with him—”

“How did you—Giuliano told you about that?!”

“No, but I have my sources,” Lucrezia said. “The point is, if this continues, you’ll end up publicly embarrassing yourself, our family, and Clarice. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” Lorenzo said. “And I swear it’s not like that, all right? He drives me crazy, actually.” He folded his arms, sighing. “It feels like my friend from when we were kids was a completely different person who doesn’t exist anymore. But I want that Francesco back.”

Lucrezia was quiet for a moment. Lorenzo expected her to say he’d better not be trying to get out of a lecture by acting all pitiful, but instead she said, “He _was_ a sweet child, I remember. Sometimes…I feel like I failed him. And his mother.”

Startled, Lorenzo looked up and saw that her expression was regretful. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Nicolosa never liked Jacopo, I knew that full well. She didn’t trust him, and she mentioned more than once that she thought he was a bad influence on her boys. I know he’s the last person she would’ve wanted to take care of them,” Lucrezia said. “But unfortunately there was no official legal document saying so, and your father and grandmother and I couldn’t convince Jacopo to give up custody no matter how hard we tried. Sometimes I think we didn’t try hard enough.”

Lorenzo reached over to touch her shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “Jacopo is stubborn as all hell, I’m sure he would’ve died before letting his nephews be raised by the Medici.”

“I suppose,” Lucrezia said. “Still, while Francesco’s been here this past month or so, I’ve found myself imagining how different things could’ve been.” She smiled slightly, though it was a sad one. “When you were born, Nicolosa was only a couple weeks away from giving birth herself, and the first time she held you, I remember she said Francesco started kicking her and didn’t stop until after she’d given you back to me, like he was impatient to come out and meet his new friend. We always hoped you’d be close. And you were, until Jacopo got his hooks in him.”

Lorenzo’s throat felt tight. So many memories were crowding his mind. Racing through the palace halls with Francesco, sneaking out of formal events together with napkins full of stolen desserts, laughing together without a care in the world. Happily planning to get married when they were older so that they could be together forever.

The look on Francesco’s face earlier today when Lorenzo had angrily reminded him of how much they used to love each other. The feeling of his lips on his, those fireworks, the way it had felt _right_ somehow.

Lorenzo had called him an asshole, but maybe Lorenzo was the asshole for never once giving him a chance, or even a kind word, since the moment he’d set foot inside the palace almost two months ago.

“Maybe…maybe we can still get him back,” Lorenzo said. “Maybe it’s not too late. If we give him a second chance—a real one, actually reaching out to him and showing him kindness instead of just being polite out of obligation, maybe he’ll come back to us.”

Lucrezia looked just as wistful as he felt, and much less optimistic. “Maybe,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: The iconic “I loathe you” “I loathe you” “I loathed you first” exchange is ofc taken from the Princess Diaries 2
> 
> Note 2: Historically Francesco was born several years before Lorenzo, but their birthdays are both in January (Lorenzo the 1st and Francesco the 28th) so here I decided they were born in January of the same year, thus making Lorenzo a few weeks older


	4. Chapter 4

Francesco barely said a word at dinner the night of the garden party, too preoccupied with his thoughts. He kept replaying the kiss over and over again in his mind, remembering the feeling of Lorenzo’s arms around him, his stubble tickling his face, his warm, soft lips.

_What happened to you to make you such an asshole?_

“You okay?” Guglielmo whispered under some lively discussion Lorenzo and Sandro were having.

Francesco realized he was frowning and quickly straightened out his face into a more neutral expression. “Fine,” he said.

But he wasn’t fine, he thought as he glanced down towards Lorenzo at the other end of the table. He was beautiful like this, his face lit up with passion as he was saying something about royal patronage and the arts, something about providing support and a platform for artists who might not otherwise have the resources to share their vision and their voice with the world.

Francesco didn’t really know what he was talking about, and it wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Lorenzo having an in-depth discussion about some aspect of his role as Florence’s monarch that Francesco didn’t understand at all, and it was times like this that made him wonder…what was he doing? Why was he trying to oust someone who would be a good king? Francesco didn’t know the first thing about being a king, why was he trying to take that job from someone who was actually prepared for it?

If he succeeded in making Lorenzo fail to meet the marriage deadline, what would happen, realistically? Bianca would marry Guglielmo and take the throne, and while Francesco liked and respected her very much, he knew she wasn’t prepared to be queen, nor would her heart be in it. She would be a decent ruler, at best, but nowhere near as good as Lorenzo would’ve been.

Next in line after her was Giuliano, and Francesco didn’t even want to _think_ about what would happen to Florence with Giuliano as its king. And even if by some miracle Jacopo managed to bulldoze through all three Medici and put Francesco on the throne, what then? He’d be a shit king, he’d never trained for it and he knew nothing about what it took to rule an entire country.

Lorenzo being crowned king wouldn’t be the best outcome for the Pazzi family, no. But it would be the best outcome for Florence.

* * *

The following afternoon, Francesco was moving quietly through the palace on the way back from lunch at Palazzo Pazzi, hoping he could reach his room without running into any Medici. It shouldn’t be hard; the palace was massive and it was the middle of the afternoon, so they were all surely occupied with the day’s royal business.

Lunch had been an unmitigated disaster. Francesco had had his misgivings when he’d accepted Jacopo’s invitation the day before, knowing he probably just wanted to yell at him for his failures in person, and that was indeed what had happened. After grilling Francesco about how he was doing in breaking up the engagement and finding out that he wasn’t even close to succeeding, Jacopo had torn into him, calling him a disappointment, a disgrace to the family name, et cetera. The usual.

But what was _not_ usual was when Francesco had dared to interrupt his rant. “Why do we have to get rid of Lorenzo anyway?” he’d said when he’d mustered up enough courage. “He’ll be a good king, much better than I would be. He’s what Florence needs, not me.”

A deadly silence had followed. “How dare you ask such a question?” Jacopo had said at last, even more furious than before. “After everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve done to put you on the throne, this is how you repay me? With ingratitude and ignorance? The Medici have long had Guglielmo under their spell, but I thought _you_ had more sense.”

“I’m not under their spell,” Francesco had said defensively. “I just think that maybe—maybe you’re wrong about them. Maybe you’re so blinded by your personal hatred that you’ve lost sight of what’s best for Florence.”

That was when Jacopo had backhanded him across the face.

“Do not question my judgment again,” he’d hissed as Francesco’s eyes had watered from the sharp ring that had opened the skin of his cheekbone. “You _will_ do as you’re told, Francesco, or there will be hell to pay. Mark my words. Now get out of my sight.”

And Francesco had obediently slunk out of the room without another word, leaving his lunch half-eaten. But he still hadn’t been able to shake his conviction that what they were trying to do was wrong.

He didn’t want to run into any Medici right now, so of course he turned down a corridor and saw Lucrezia coming towards him, surrounded by a gaggle of aides. “Francesco, good afternoon,” she said, giving him a polite smile, though Francesco knew he’d be fooling himself if he said she felt anything but distrust and dislike towards him.

“Good afternoon,” Francesco echoed, turning his head away slightly.

But not quickly enough. “What happened? You’re all bruised.”

Francesco thought that was a little dramatic. He’d checked his reflection in the car and it had just been one small bruise forming underneath the thin cut on his cheekbone. “I was distracted reading something on my phone and walked into a wall,” he said smoothly; he had plenty of experience improvising sources of injuries. “The corner caught my cheekbone.”

Lucrezia was studying him skeptically, but she just said, “Well, it looks painful. Come with me, I’ll get you some ice.” She nodded at her aides. “You can head back to my office, I’ll be along shortly.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Francesco protested, but she was walking down the hall with the expectation that he would follow, and she _was_ technically his queen, so he had no choice but to do so.

She led him to her suite of rooms, where she sat him down on a sofa in her sitting room and pulled an icepack out of the minifridge. Francesco didn’t have a minifridge in _his_ room. Not fair. If he did, he could stock it up with food and never have to have a big family meal with the Medici ever again.

Lucrezia sat beside him and put the icepack on his cheekbone. “Hold that there,” she instructed, and Francesco dutifully reached up to take it from her.

“Don’t you have people for this?” he asked when she showed no sign of leaving his side. “You must have better things to do than give me icepacks.”

Lucrezia chuckled. “My children were always getting into scrapes when they were young, and Piero and I found that they fussed less if we patched them up ourselves rather than leaving it to our ‘people.’”

“I’m not a fussy child.”

“No, but old habits die hard.” Then her smile faded and her expression grew serious. “Now that we’re alone, will you tell me what really happened?”

Francesco looked away. “I told you. I walked into a wall.”

“Hmm,” Lucrezia said. “You were having lunch with your uncle today, weren’t you?”

Francesco should never have shared his plans with the rest of them. He remained silent and hoped she would drop it.

But he should’ve known better than to think a Medici would ever drop anything before they were satisfied. “Guglielmo doesn’t like to talk about your childhood or your uncle, but from the bits and pieces I’ve heard from him, I gather that this isn’t uncommon,” Lucrezia said. “And I want you to know that if you ever need a place to stay, you’re always welcome here.”

Francesco was baffled. What game was she playing here? What did she want from him? Nobody ever offered a favor without expecting something in return, especially not Lucrezia Tornabuoni, mastermind of the Medici family, cunning strategist and manipulator, the power behind the throne even when Piero was the one sitting on it.

Lucrezia who had once been like a second mother to him. Lucrezia who had let Jacopo take him away, who had stood there quietly when Jacopo hit him in front of the entire Medici family after he’d tried to resist. Lucrezia who had abandoned him when he needed her the most.

Why, after fifteen years, why would she be offering him kindness now?

Francesco glanced suspiciously at her and saw that her expression was one of concern and pity, but he didn’t trust it. “Why do you care?” he asked.

Lucrezia paused for a moment before saying, “There was a time when you were like a son to me. Your mother was one of my closest friends, and now your brother is practically my son-in-law. Is it surprising that I should care about your wellbeing too?”

The sheer hypocrisy of those words made something inside Francesco snap, and suddenly every bitter feeling he’d ever had towards the Medici was coming pouring out. “Pretty surprising, yeah, since you haven’t given a shit about me for the past fifteen years,” he said, temporarily forgetting he was talking to his queen. “Fifteen years we were living alone under Jacopo’s roof, and you did nothing. You knew what he was like, you saw him hit me the day he came to take us, and you did nothing. You didn’t care about me when it mattered most, so don’t pretend to now. I know how much you all hate me.” _What happened to you to make you such an asshole?_ “But if you hate the person I’ve become, maybe you should think about whose fault it is that I became that way.”

Lucrezia looked stricken, to Francesco’s satisfaction. “I don’t hate you, Francesco. And we did care then, believe me. All of us did,” she said, a slight tremble in her voice. “We tried everything we could to convince Jacopo to let you stay with us, but he wouldn’t be persuaded. And seeing as our only claim to custody of you—that we were friends with your parents—wouldn’t hold up in court against Jacopo’s claim as your closest blood relative, we were advised not to pursue a legal battle that would draw lots of unwanted media attention to you boys and do you more harm than good.”

“Unwanted media attention to _you,_ you mean,” Francesco shot back. “Don’t bullshit me that the _king and queen of Florence_ had no power to do anything. You left us there because your family didn’t want to tarnish its image by being involved in a custody battle scandal. You left us there.” He took a deep breath, trying to swallow the tears he could feel burning his throat. “So excuse me for not thinking that one icepack is enough to fix the fifteen years’ worth of hurt my brother and I endured because the Medici abandoned us.”

And he shoved the icepack back into Lucrezia’s hands, got to his feet, and left the room before she could say another word.

* * *

Several days later, Francesco was in the library reading when he heard footsteps, followed by someone saying, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be in here.”

His heart did a backflip at Lorenzo’s familiar voice, and he looked up at him. “That’s okay,” Francesco said. “It’s your palace, you can go wherever you want.”

Lorenzo let out a huff of laughter. “Still, I’m bothering you, I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, wait,” Francesco said as he turned to go. “I…I wanted to talk to you.”

He put his book aside and got up to move towards Lorenzo who, to his relief, turned back to face him rather than continuing on his way out. “About what?” he said, his expression a little wary.

Not that Francesco could blame him, seeing as lately whenever Francesco had wanted to talk to him, it had been purely to antagonize him. _You used to be my best friend. You used to be my favorite person in the whole world. What happened to you to make you such an asshole?_

“I want to apologize,” Francesco said. “For—for kissing you, and for how I’ve been acting the whole time I’ve been here. I was completely out of line, and I’m sorry.”

Lorenzo studied him for a moment, as if gauging whether this was a trick. “Well, I haven’t been the nicest to you either,” he said finally. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s all right.” Francesco shuffled his feet, trying to think of something to say to keep Lorenzo there with him for a little while longer. “I really am sorry about your father,” he blurted out. Dammit, that was probably the last thing Lorenzo wanted to talk about.

“Oh…thank you,” Lorenzo said, looking taken aback. But Francesco thought he saw some gratitude in his expression as well.

Francesco nodded and glanced away. “Um, anyway, I should probably be—”

“Does it ever get easier?” Lorenzo said suddenly.

Francesco looked back at him. “What?”

“I just thought, um, you’ve lost your parents too,” Lorenzo mumbled, looking uncertain. “So I just wondered if—I thought maybe you’d understand better than most of the people I’ve talked to.”

Francesco stuffed his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable to be discussing something so personal, but also strangely touched that Lorenzo wanted to discuss it with him. “I suppose it does get easier,” he said after a minute. “I don’t think about my parents every day anymore, not like in the beginning when they were on my mind every waking moment. But when I do…it still does hurt, most of the time. Sometimes the good memories make me smile, but most of the time it just hurts that those are the only ones I have and I’ll never get to make more. Even after fifteen years.” He blew out a breath. “Sorry, that’s probably not very comforting.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s good to hear an honest answer instead of all the generic ‘it gets easier’ bullshit from everyone else,” Lorenzo said. “Although I guess our situations might not be that comparable anyway. I mean, I wish I’d had more than just twenty-four years with my dad, but that’s still so many more than the nine you had with your parents. And I still have my mom and probably will have her for decades to come. Whereas you lost both so young, and you were all alone and they didn’t get to see you grow up…I don’t know why I’m saying all this, I’m sorry, this must just be making you feel worse, I guess I was just—just trying to say that I’m really sorry about what happened to you, Francesco. If losing one parent as an adult hurts this much, I can’t even imagine how it would’ve felt to lose both of them as a child. At the time, I don’t think I really understood how much pain you were going through. I should’ve been more patient with you.”

Francesco cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes, his eyes stinging with tears. But not all of them were tears of sorrow. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “But it’s not your fault, you tried to continue our friendship and I pushed you away. I said some horrible things that day we fought.”

“You were only a kid, and you were going through things no kid should have to go through, not to mention your uncle was influencing you and turning you against me and my family,” Lorenzo said. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve realized that you were hurting and that deep down, you didn’t really mean all those things you said. I wish I hadn’t lost my temper with you that day. Maybe—maybe everything would’ve turned out differently if I hadn’t.”

Francesco could feel tears trickling freely down his cheeks now, but he raised his head back up to meet Lorenzo’s eyes anyway. _You used to be my favorite person in the whole world,_ he could hear Lorenzo’s voice echoing around and around in his head.

Lucrezia’s too. _I want you to know that if you ever need a place to stay, you’re always welcome here._

_Is it surprising that I should care about your wellbeing?_

_What happened to you to make you such an asshole?_

Francesco was sick of being an asshole. He was sick of pushing everyone away. He was sick of refusing to let people care about him.

God, he was so, so sick of being lonely.

“I really missed you,” Francesco said, his voice cracking a little. “All those years alone in my uncle’s house, cut off from everyone I loved except Guglielmo—I really missed you. I wanted my parents back more than anything, but my best friend was a close second. I should never have let my uncle come between us. I shouldn’t _still_ be letting him do it. I’m an idiot. And a coward.”

There were tears in Lorenzo’s eyes too, and without another word, he stepped closer to him and pulled him into a hug. Francesco let out a shaky breath and clung to him, letting himself sink into the solid warmth that was still a little familiar, even after all these years.

“Can we just start over?” Lorenzo asked. “Forget all the stupid bickering from the past two months, forget the fifteen years we weren’t speaking, forget the fight we had that day when we were kids. Let’s just start over, Francesco.”

Francesco smiled into his shoulder, his heart lifting. Even after all the bullshit he’d put him through, Lorenzo was still willing to give him a second chance. Actually probably more of a third or fourth chance at this point. What had Francesco ever done to deserve someone like him?

“I’d like that,” he said, still smiling as he raised his head to look at him. “I’d like that a lot.”

Lorenzo smiled too and reached up to gently cup his cheek in his hand. “There it is,” he said.

“There what is?”

“That smile. The genuine one,” Lorenzo said. “This is the first time I’ve seen it since the ball, and it’s beautiful.” He paused, gazing into Francesco’s eyes. “ _You’re_ beautiful.”

Francesco’s heart was beating fast. They were so close together now, their faces half a centimeter apart. But he still hadn’t told Lorenzo everything, hadn’t told him about Operation Seduction, hadn’t said anything to make sure he knew that this right now, this was _real,_ not part of his stupid crown-stealing seduction scheme.

“Lorenzo, I—” he started to say, but then Lorenzo was pressing his lips against his. This kiss was softer, gentler than the one in front of the fountain, but also more passionate. More meaningful.

And Francesco decided, what did it matter anyway if Lorenzo knew the whole truth? He was getting married in four days, which meant that this moment was just about all they could ever have together. And if he told Lorenzo all that other stuff right now, it would make him angry and ruin this one moment.

So Francesco pushed all thoughts of Operation Seduction aside and simply closed his eyes and kissed Lorenzo back.

* * *

“You were right,” Francesco told Novella that night while they were hanging out in his room.

“I know,” she said. “About what?”

“Lorenzo. I…” He swallowed and mumbled, “I caught feelings.”

Novella burst out laughing. “I knew it! God, you are _so_ predictable, it’s embarrassing.” But her smile faded when she saw the look on his face. “Oh. You mean…you _really_ caught feelings.”

Francesco nodded, his eyes stinging. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I did.”

Without another word, Novella simply reached over and pulled him into a hug. Francesco let her, grateful for the comfort even though it didn’t really do much to ease the ache in his heart. _Stupid Francesco,_ his brain was scolding him. _Why did you have to fall for the one person you can never be with?_


	5. Chapter 5

Lorenzo had been distracted ever since he’d kissed Francesco in the library yesterday. He couldn’t concentrate on anything that was asked of him, especially things related to wedding planning. Honestly, he was doing his best not to think about the wedding, which was no easy feat seeing as it was three days away and it was all anyone in the palace was talking about.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Clarice asked him after lunch. “You’ve been unusually quiet today.”

Lorenzo swallowed, unable to meet her eyes and all too conscious of Francesco leaving the dining room with Guglielmo a few steps ahead of them. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Just tired and stressed with all the wedding prep.”

Clarice laughed. “I hear you there,” she said. “Maybe it’ll help if you get a good night’s sleep tonight. I’ll tell everyone not to bother you with wedding stuff this evening, and you can go to bed early.”

“That’s nice of you. Thank you,” Lorenzo said, even though it actually just made him feel worse because he had the sweetest, most thoughtful fiancée on the planet and all he could think about was kissing someone else.

Several hours later, he found himself with some free time before dinner, so he went outside to practice archery on his own. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of it and was getting increasingly nervous about having to do it at his coronation next week, and he figured he could use all the extra practice he could cram in. Maybe it would help clear his head a bit too.

Unfortunately, the opposite was true: his head was so muddled that he couldn’t focus on archery and was even worse than usual. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Lorenzo notched what felt like his seven hundredth arrow and lifted the bow, trying to aim at the target.

“You’re too tense,” said a familiar voice behind him that just made him tense up even more.

“Francesco,” he said, heart pounding. “How long have you been there?”

“About two seconds. I was only out for a walk to clear my head, and as I was passing by I saw you.”

Lorenzo let out a sad little laugh. “I know the feeling,” he said. “I wish I could tell my head to just shut up for five minutes.”

Francesco chuckled too, just as bittersweet. Lorenzo could sense him standing directly behind him now, and he let out a breath as he felt him press up against his back. “Relax your stance,” Francesco murmured, covering Lorenzo’s hands on the bow and adjusting them into the correct position. “There. Just like that.”

Francesco was a couple inches shorter than him, and Lorenzo could feel his breath on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. “Now breathe in,” Francesco instructed, and Lorenzo obeyed. “And…release.”

Lorenzo released his breath and his arrow at the same time, and his eyes widened in amazement as he saw it fly into the dead center of the target. “Oh my God,” he said. “I did it!”

“See? It’s not too hard, is it?” Francesco said; Lorenzo could hear the smile in his voice, and it made him smile too.

He lowered the bow and finally turned his head slightly towards Francesco, who was gazing at him with a mix of emotions Lorenzo couldn’t untangle. “I’m leaving in the morning,” Francesco said softly.

“Oh,” Lorenzo said, his heart sinking. “Already?”

“I’ve been here two months even though it was only supposed to be a few weeks.”

“Yes, but—but it’s nice having you around,” Lorenzo said. _I don’t want you to go. Please stay. You’re my best friend. You’re home to me. I think I’m falling in love with you._

But he couldn’t get any of the words out, like his throat was stuck shut. “I think it’s for the best if I return home,” Francesco said. “Easier for everyone.”

“Will you be at the wedding, at least?”

Francesco looked away. “I don’t know,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and looked back at Lorenzo. “But…can I see you one more time before I go? Alone?”

“How?” Lorenzo asked. “You know what it’s like in the palace, I’m never left alone for more than five minutes.” He glanced over at the security guards by the nearest entrance who were pretending not to be watching their conversation.

The corner of Francesco’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Leave it to me.”

* * *

That night, Lorenzo was pacing around his bedroom after midnight and spilling the entire story to Giuliano and Bianca. “So you’re in love with Francesco?” Bianca said, looking astonished.

“You have atrocious taste,” Giuliano informed him.

“Shut up. And I don’t know if I’m _in love_ with him, it’s all still so new,” Lorenzo said. “But I definitely have strong feelings for him.”

“What about Clarice?”

Lorenzo sighed and sat down on his bed between them. “She’ll make a wonderful queen,” he said. “And—and I’m sure we’ll be happy enough together.”

“Happy enough,” Bianca echoed. “Wouldn’t you rather be happy, period?”

“Of course I would, but what can I do? It’s too late,” Lorenzo said rather desperately. “The wedding’s in three days—basically two now—and I can’t call it off at this point, it would be a huge scandal and I’d embarrass Clarice and our whole family in front of the entire world. Not to mention that I’d miss my marriage deadline and get booted out of the line of succession. No, I have to go through with the wedding. It’s the only option.”

“Or you could call it off, cause a scandal, and just say to hell with it,” Giuliano said. “What does it matter what the public says? They’re idiots.”

Bianca nodded in agreement. “It’s _your_ life, you should get the chance to be with whoever you want,” she said. “We have to give so much of ourselves to the public, but this? Choosing our own lifelong partners? That should be something we have the freedom to decide by ourselves, in our own time and on our own terms. Nobody else should get a say because it doesn’t concern them.”

“For _you,_ maybe, but in my case, the person I marry will rule Florence by my side,” Lorenzo pointed out. “So that does concern the public, and Parliament.”

Bianca shrugged. “You’ll do most of the real political work as the reigning monarch, your spouse would just be there to cut ribbons and host parties and stuff.”

“I’m sure Mom would love that take on her role in the family.”

“I think you should call Parliament’s bluff,” Giuliano said, steering them back on track. “Would they _really_ boot you out of the succession if you refused to marry by the deadline?”

“I mean, yeah, they were pretty clear that they would,” Lorenzo said.

“So then Bianca has to be queen. Big deal.”

“Oh, yes, big deal,” Bianca said sarcastically.

“Well, wouldn’t you suck it up and agree to be queen if it meant letting your dear brother be happy?” Giuliano asked.

“Maybe I’ll renounce my claim too and force my _other_ dear brother to take the throne, how would you like that, huh?”

“Then I’ll refuse too and Francesco will be crowned, and then he can marry Lorenzo and Lorenzo will get to be king anyway,” Giuliano joked. “Problem solved.”

“Guys, come on, this is serious,” Lorenzo said. “I _can’t_ give up the throne, not for anything, but I care about Francesco so much and the thought of having that ‘what if’ hanging over me for the rest of my life is—”

He cut off as something clattered against his window. Frowning, he crossed the room, opened the curtains, and looked outside. “Oh my God,” he said. “It’s Francesco!”

“Throwing rocks at your window?” Giuliano said. “Gross, could he _be_ any more cliché?”

Lorenzo opened the window. “What are you doing?” he hissed as loudly as he dared.

“I told you I wanted to see you again before I left,” Francesco said. Lorenzo saw that there was a picnic basket and a rolled-up blanket on the ground next to him. “Coming or not?”

Lorenzo stepped back from the window to confer with his siblings. “What should I do?” he fretted, anxiety and excitement warring in his heart.

“I say go to him,” Bianca said. “If you really are committed to going through with the wedding, then this is your only chance to have a romantic night with Francesco—”

“Ewwww.”

“Can you be an adult for five minutes, Giuliano? As I was _saying,_ Lorenzo, you don’t want to spend the rest of your life regretting not going with him right now.”

Lorenzo chewed his lip and looked back over towards the window. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?” he said.

“It’s a terrible idea, but the fun ones always are,” Giuliano said. “You should go, we’ll cover for you if anyone notices you’re gone.”

Lorenzo took a deep breath, his mind made up. “Okay. I’m going,” he said. “You guys are the best.”

“We know,” they chorused.

He went back over to the window to study the situation. He was two floors up, so too far to jump, but not so far that he’d die if he accidentally fell while climbing down. Or at least, he _probably_ wouldn’t die. And there was some convenient ivy right next to his window, trailing all the way down the wall. Perfect.

Lorenzo climbed out the window and grabbed hold of the ivy, then started clambering down slowly and carefully. “You’re doing great, Rapunzel,” he heard Giuliano saying from above him.

“Stop distracting me,” Lorenzo said, tentatively placing his foot in a nick in the stone wall and lowering himself down a little further.

He kept going until he was close enough to put his foot on the sill of the ground floor window. Or so he thought, but it turned out he wasn’t quite low enough, so his foot met empty space and he lost his grip on the ivy and went tumbling to the ground below, where he collided with something warm and solid.

“Ow,” Francesco said.

Lorenzo lifted his head and realized he was lying on top of him. “Sorry,” he said. “Turns out climbing down an ivy-covered wall isn’t as easy as the movies make it look.”

Francesco laughed, and Lorenzo climbed off him, stood up, and helped him to his feet. “You okay?” he asked.

“Not even a scratch,” Francesco replied. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Lorenzo said, unable to help smiling as he laced his fingers through Francesco’s.

Francesco smiled back. “You’ll see.”

* * *

Francesco took him to the pond at the edge of the palace grounds. It was quiet and deserted, and he spread the blanket out by the side of the pond and sat down on it with Lorenzo. “Let’s hope it’s not melted by now,” he said, opening the picnic basket.

“What—my gelato!” Lorenzo exclaimed as Francesco took the container out. “You’re a genius.”

It _was_ a little melted, but no less delicious. “That night we ran into each other in the kitchen,” Lorenzo said through a mouthful. “You should’ve just kissed me then, it would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble.”

Francesco laughed. “I didn’t know I wanted to kiss you then,” he said truthfully.

“When _did_ you know you wanted to kiss me?”

Francesco thought back on the past two months, tried to separate the moments that were purely part of Operation Seduction from the ones that were real on his part. “The closet,” he settled on.

“Me too,” Lorenzo said. “Although, if I’m being totally honest, I was a little tempted in the kitchen with you running your fingers all over my lips.” He got a sly look on his face. “Speaking of, I think there’s some chocolate on my mouth right now.”

“Hmm, looks like there is. Let me get that for you,” Francesco said, smirking, and he leaned in and kissed him.

Once they’d eaten their fill, Lorenzo got to his feet and pulled Francesco into a dance to music only he could hear. Francesco let him spin him around, laughing and feeling freer, _happier_ than he could remember feeling in a long, long time.

If only it could last.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” Lorenzo whispered later as he held Francesco close against him, slowly swaying back and forth. If Francesco closed his eyes, he could pretend they were back at the ball, when everything was simpler.

“Me too,” Francesco said, his heart aching at the prospect of morning coming.

But morning wasn’t here quite yet. Feeling sleepy, they curled up on the blanket together and just talked for a while, about everything and nothing. “Tell me a secret,” Lorenzo said, absentmindedly playing with Francesco’s hair.

Francesco hummed thoughtfully and nestled closer into his side. “I yelled at your mother the other day,” he said after a moment. He’d been feeling guilty about it ever since, but had been too proud to either apologize to Lucrezia or confide in anyone else what had happened.

Lorenzo’s hand stilled. “What for?” he asked, sounding startled.

“She ran into me after I’d had…a difficult lunch with my uncle, and she was only trying to be nice and make me feel better, but I started yelling at her for letting him take me and Guglielmo fifteen years ago,” Francesco said. “I know that my uncle’s the one to blame for that but…I could never help feeling like you all abandoned us. Like you didn’t care.”

He snuck a glance up at Lorenzo’s face and saw that he looked heartbroken. “Well, I think you do have every right to feel resentful towards us,” he admitted as he resumed petting Francesco’s hair. “I can’t even imagine all the horrible things you must’ve gone through the past fifteen years, things that—that maybe we could’ve prevented if we’d put up more of a fight with Jacopo. But I promise you, it’s not true that we didn’t care. We missed you both so much. I know I’ve never stopped regretting letting Jacopo take you, and I’m sure my mom feels the same way. In fact, just last week after the garden party, we were talking about you and she told me that she feels like she failed you.”

Francesco was quiet for a minute, pondering this. The garden party…that was before his conversation with Lucrezia. So she’d already been feeling guilty about it before he’d even said anything to her? While he didn’t necessarily enjoy the realization that he’d given her a hard time about something she already felt bad about, it was kind of gratifying to know that she _had_ already felt bad about it. That she cared enough about him to regret it all on her own, not just because Francesco had guilt-tripped her.

Maybe that was the reason she’d offered him kindness that afternoon. Not because she wanted something from him. Because she felt like she’d failed him and wanted to make it up to him.

But Francesco wasn’t in the mood to dwell on all this right now, and luckily Lorenzo didn’t protest when he changed the subject. “Now you tell me a secret.”

Lorenzo was silent for a long time, so long that Francesco thought he’d fallen asleep. Then: “I don’t want to get married on Saturday,” he said quietly.

Francesco swallowed past the lump in his throat. He didn’t say _I don’t want you to either_ because they both already knew that, and it wouldn’t help anything. Instead he said, “We’ll still be friends. Even if—even if we can’t have _this_ after tonight, we’ll still be friends. I already let you leave my life once and I have no intention of doing it again.”

Lorenzo smiled at him, most of the sorrow on his face clearing up. “Good,” he said. “Because I need my best friend.”

“So do I.”

Lorenzo kissed him again, and Francesco silently wondered how he would ever be able to be just friends with Lorenzo now that he knew how sweet his kisses were. How he would ever be able to see him and Clarice together without wishing it was him instead.

* * *

Lorenzo woke to birds chirping and the warm light of the rising sun on his face. Squinting, he glanced down to see Francesco still curled up against him, his head on his chest. “Francesco,” he said, gently touching his face.

Francesco stirred and blinked at him, yawning, and Lorenzo leaned down to brush his lips against his. Francesco hummed contentedly into his mouth and kissed him back for a moment, then broke the kiss to glance up at the sun in confusion. “We…did we stay out all night?” he said.

“We stayed out all night,” Lorenzo confirmed with a chuckle. Then the consequences of that fact hit him. “Shit. We stayed out all night!”

They both scrambled to sit up, and Lorenzo looked around at the pond, trying to wake himself up the rest of the way and get his bearings. That was when he saw it. Movement in the reeds.

“Is that—Francesco, is there someone over there?” he said, nudging him and pointing. “I saw something moving.”

Francesco rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Probably an animal.”

But now Lorenzo could see something distinctly human-shaped moving, and then…the glint of a phone held up towards them.

“Hey!” he called, panic and anger coursing through him as he jumped to his feet and hurried around to the other side of the pond. “Hey, get back here!”

But the man was already running away into the woods that bordered the palace grounds, and by the time Lorenzo got to the spot where he’d been hiding, he was long gone out of sight. “Dammit!” he yelled, startling a nearby flock of birds and making them take off fluttering into the air, squawking indignantly.

“What happened?” Francesco said, sounding confused. “Who was there?”

Oh, that was low of him. What a truly talented actor he was. Lorenzo felt sick. How could he have let Francesco play him _again?_

“You know exactly who was there,” Lorenzo said, striding back over towards him with fury and heartbreak pounding in his veins. “It was the guy _you_ paid to film us!”

_“What?”_ Francesco said. “What are you _talking_ about? Someone filmed us?”

“Of course he did, because you told him exactly where we’d be and when!” Lorenzo said loudly. “I knew it, I _knew_ I shouldn’t have trusted you! This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Get me to fall for you so that I’d call off the wedding, and that way I’ll be passed over in the succession and _you_ can slither in to steal the throne! And when I didn’t call off the wedding, you figured out a way to get compromising footage of us together to force my hand!”

“I had nothing to do with this!” Francesco insisted. “Lorenzo, please, I would never do something like this—”

“You’re a fucking liar!” Lorenzo yelled, tears in his eyes. “You’re a liar, I trusted you, I _loved_ you, and you were just using me the whole time! Just get away from me!”

“Lorenzo—”

“Get away from me,” Lorenzo repeated, his voice shaking so much it was a miracle he got the words out at all, and then he turned and ran back to the palace as fast as he could, cursing the fact that the palace grounds were so vast and hoping he could get back in time to minimize the damage.

No such luck. After a good twenty minutes of running, he arrived sweaty and panting at one of the palace’s back entrances and was soon met inside by a stony-faced Lucrezia. “With me. Now,” she said brusquely, her heels clacking on the marble floor as she led him down the hall and into her personal study. When he entered the room, Lorenzo saw there was a video up on her computer screen. A video that looked suspiciously like—

“Would you care to explain what you were doing having a romantic tryst with Francesco two days before your wedding?” Lucrezia said.

Lorenzo hurried forward and pressed play on the video to see how bad it was. Pretty bad: there they were from half an hour ago, sleeping in each other’s arms, waking up and exchanging a soft smile and a kiss before Lorenzo sat up and looked in the general direction of the camera, at which point the video cut off.

“Um,” he said. “Maybe we can pass this off as just friendship?”

“Way too late for that. You don’t want to know what the internet is saying right now,” Lucrezia said, and Lorenzo winced at the thought. “We’ve contacted the site that posted the video and ordered them to take it down on the grounds of invasion of privacy, but it’s already been reposted on hundreds of other sites. We’ll never be able to contain it.”

Lorenzo sighed. “Great.”

“I’m still waiting for you to explain yourself.”

Before he could, the door burst open and Giuliano and Bianca hurried in, both still wearing pajamas. Lorenzo finally glanced at the time and saw it was barely seven AM. “It’s not his fault, Mom, we told him to go with Francesco last night,” Bianca said. “He said it was a bad idea, but we talked him into it.”

Lucrezia was utterly unimpressed. “Wonderful, now I have to be angry with all _three_ of you,” she said exasperatedly. “Lorenzo, do you not remember our entire conversation last week when I told you to put a stop to whatever was between you and Francesco before it got out to the public? It’s not your fault that someone filmed you on our private property—we’ll be investigating how that could’ve happened—but you shouldn’t have even allowed yourself to be in this position in the first place.”

“He set me up,” Lorenzo whispered, blinking back tears. “I really liked him and I thought he felt the same way, but he was just playing me the whole time. He set me up. I’m so _stupid.”_

Bianca moved to his side and hugged him tight, and Lorenzo buried his face gratefully in her shoulder while Giuliano filled Lucrezia in on everything Lorenzo had told them the night before. When she’d heard it all, she sighed. “I _told_ you to be careful around Francesco,” she said, though no longer without sympathy. “We always suspected he and his uncle were up to something.”

“I know,” Lorenzo said miserably. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“I don’t think this _was_ Francesco, though,” Bianca said. “I don’t think he would do something like this. Jacopo, yes, but Francesco wouldn’t.”

“I think Francesco would _definitely_ do something like this, the bastard,” Giuliano said. “Besides, how else would that guy have known exactly where to find them?”

“Jacopo could’ve had them followed or something. We were being pretty loud last night when Lorenzo was climbing out the window, anyone nearby could’ve noticed.”

“I still think it was Francesco,” Giuliano said stubbornly.

“Right now, we don’t need to know who’s to blame for what,” Lucrezia interrupted. “What we _do_ need to know is whether we’re going to have a wedding on Saturday or not.”

Everyone turned to look at Lorenzo. “I have to find Clarice,” he said.

“Maybe change your clothes first,” Bianca advised him. “You’re covered in dirt.”

Lorenzo dried his eyes and hurried off, hearing Giuliano saying as he was leaving, “Look on the bright side, Mom. At least they weren’t naked.” He couldn’t make out the exact words of Lucrezia’s response, but judging by her tone, this point did not soothe her.

Lorenzo hastily showered and changed before looking for Clarice. He found her out in the gardens, sitting on the bench where they’d talked on her first night in Florence. “Clarice,” Lorenzo said, making his way towards her. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He tentatively sat beside her, and she let him. “Lorenzo,” she said, turning to look at him at last. There was disappointment clearly written on her face, and Lorenzo wanted to shrivel up and die.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I know that’s a pathetic thing to say right now, but it’s the truth. I’m sorry. And I understand if you don’t want to marry me anymore.”

“You mean, you’re hoping not to marry me but you want me to be the one to make the call?” she asked.

“No, not at all,” Lorenzo said quickly. “I just meant—I know I must’ve humiliated you, so if you don’t want anything further to do with me, that’s fine.”

Clarice sighed and looked down at her hands. “You’re right, I was humiliated. But that’s exactly it. Humiliated is _all_ I felt, not hurt or sad or anything like that,” she said. “When I saw that video of you with Francesco, my first thought was, ‘what will people think?’ I wasn’t hurt to see you with someone else, just embarrassed about what other people would say.”

“Oh,” Lorenzo said, processing this. “So you’re saying you don’t have romantic feelings for me?”

“No. I like you a lot and think of you as a good friend, but no matter how hard I try, I haven’t been able to see you in a romantic light,” Clarice admitted. “I…struggle to feel that way towards any man, to be honest.”

Lorenzo blinked at her, noticing the slight emphasis she put on _man._ “You’re a lesbian?” he clarified.

Clarice blushed, still not quite looking at him. “I think so?” she said. “But I’m not sure, I’ve never really dated anyone of any gender, so I don’t—”

Lorenzo gently took her face in his hands, making her stutter to a halt. “Kiss me, properly,” he said softly. “Just to see how it feels.”

Clarice leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Lorenzo kissed her with everything he had, and it was the longest, deepest kiss they’d ever shared, but… “Nothing,” Clarice said apologetically. “No spark.”

“No fireworks,” Lorenzo agreed, thinking of his kisses with Francesco and how different they felt to this one. But he tried to shove those now-painful memories aside. “So what the hell are we supposed to do now? I can’t make you marry me if you don’t even like men, you’ll be miserable.”

“But if I don’t marry you, you’ll lose your throne,” Clarice said. “Bianca and Giuliano are wonderful people, but they wouldn’t be good rulers, not like you would. Us getting married is in Florence’s best interests, and it would be selfish of us not to go through with it. We have a duty to our families and to the people of Florence.”

Lorenzo bit his lip, but he knew she was right. If only they’d had this conversation two months ago, then he would’ve had time to find someone else to marry, but now it was too late. They were out of time. “We’ll go through with it, then, and we’ll make the best of it,” he said. “For the good of Florence.”

Clarice nodded and took his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “For the good of Florence.”

* * *

Francesco had never been less happy to see Palazzo Pazzi. He’d spent the ride home anxiously checking his phone both for news on the scandal he’d found himself embroiled in—too abundant—and messages from Lorenzo—none whatsoever. He couldn’t believe Lorenzo thought he’d been involved, and it hurt more than anything to know that he had so little trust in him, but then again, could Francesco blame him? He was a Pazzi, of course Lorenzo shouldn’t trust him.

Jacopo met him with a smile, which was highly suspicious given how angry he’d been with him ever since the engagement had been announced. “Welcome home, nephew,” he said. “And well done.”

“Well done?” Francesco said. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You seduced Lorenzo just as I asked, and now thanks to me, the whole world knows about it.”

“Thanks to…” Francesco’s eyes narrowed as he put two and two together. _“You_ hired that guy with the camera.”

“Of course I did,” Jacopo said. His smile vanished. “Because _you_ betrayed me, so I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands.”

“What are you talking about?” Francesco said, his stomach churning unpleasantly.

“The moment you told me you thought Lorenzo would be a better ruler than you, I knew you were lost to me,” Jacopo said. “I knew you’d fallen for _his_ charms instead of the other way around—I was prepared for that to happen, because you’ve always been naïve and weak, especially when it comes to Lorenzo, though it still disappointed me. So I gave up on you and…persuaded one of the extra workers in the palace this week for wedding preparations to keep tabs on you and Lorenzo. It didn’t take him long to find you in a compromising position.”

Francesco clenched his fists, his blood boiling. How, after so many years, how did the lows Jacopo would sink to keep surprising him? He should’ve known he would’ve had a backup plan in the event of Francesco’s failure. But he’d naively allowed himself to believe that Jacopo had given up. As if Jacopo ever gave up.

“You humiliated me,” he said. “You humiliated both of us in front of all of Florence, in front of the entire _world_ —”

“Oh, spare me the theatrics,” Jacopo said dismissively. “This scandal will put a stop to the wedding, and that’s what matters. Your precious _feelings_ are a small price to pay to make sure the right person ends up on the throne. Now, you ought to go upstairs to unpack. And to think very carefully about where your loyalties will lie in the future.”

He left the room, and Francesco obediently went upstairs, silently fuming. What now? He didn’t want to see Lorenzo marry someone else, but if the wedding didn’t happen, then Jacopo would win, and that would be far worse for everyone, not just Francesco. Maybe Jacopo was right, though not in the way he’d intended the words. Maybe Francesco’s feelings _were_ a small price to pay to make sure the right person ended up on the throne.

He sat on his bed and pulled out his phone. Still no messages from Lorenzo. Francesco wanted to reach out first and explain that Jacopo was responsible for the video, but he didn’t have any proof. Lorenzo would probably think it was just more lies.

So instead he scrolled through his contact list and called Guglielmo. “Francesco, hey,” Guglielmo said. “I was just about to call you, have you seen—”

“Yes, I’ve seen it.” Francesco took a shaky breath, feeling tears burning in his eyes and wishing he hadn’t been too proud to confide in his brother prior to getting himself into such a mess. “I really need to talk to you,” he said in a small voice.

* * *

“Nervous?”

Lorenzo started at the voice and turned around to see that Bianca had entered the room, already dressed and ready. “Yes,” he said. He bit his lip and smoothed down his jacket. “Do you really think I’m doing the right thing?”

“I think you’re doing the stupidly noble and selfless thing,” she said. “Which usually means it’s the right one.”

Lorenzo smiled wryly. “Is it time to go?”

“Just about. But I wanted to talk to you for a second first,” Bianca said. “It wasn’t Francesco who hired that guy, he didn’t know anything about it. It was all Jacopo.”

Sighing, Lorenzo folded his arms and looked away. “Look, I’ve already told you, I’m not going to believe that without—”

“—proof, which we now have,” Bianca cut him off. “Francesco said Jacopo bribed one of the extra staff who came to help with wedding preparations, and he followed you guys that night. Guglielmo and I did some digging and figured out who it was and he confessed, and Francesco found the receipt of a wired payment in Jacopo’s study confirming it. You can see all of this for yourself later if you really feel the need to.”

Lorenzo felt hope bubbling up despite his better judgment. “Really?” he said. “Francesco _truly_ wasn’t involved? He didn’t know about any of this until after the fact?”

“Not in the slightest,” Bianca said. “Come on. You know him, Lorenzo. You and Guglielmo know him better than anyone else does. Guglielmo knows he would never have done something like that, and deep down you do too.”

He did. Deep down, Lorenzo _knew_ Francesco had been telling the truth that morning when he’d insisted he wasn’t involved. And the night before, the kisses stolen in the dark, dancing together under the moonlight, whispering secrets in each other’s arms…it wasn’t possible for Francesco to have faked any of that. He did care about Lorenzo, just as much as Lorenzo did about him.

But it was still too late.

“Well, what does it matter now?” Lorenzo said, trying to push all thoughts of Francesco out of his mind. “I have a wedding to get to.”


	6. Chapter 6

Francesco pretended to be sick the morning of the wedding so he’d have an excuse not to go, though he doubted Jacopo believed him. Nevertheless, he did leave without him and Francesco spent a long time in bed trying not to think about the wedding, which of course meant it was the only thing he could think about.

He was glad it was happening. He was glad Lorenzo would become king. He was glad for Florence’s sake. But for his own…for his own, it felt like his heart was being crushed into a thousand pieces.

Eventually he got a text from Novella. _Are you here yet? Dad made us get here SO early and I’m bored af_

_I’m not coming,_ Francesco replied.

_wtf??????? How am I supposed to sit through a whole day of court schmoozing without you??? Bastard_

_You’ll live._

_Unlikely. And coming to the wedding might make you feel better too, for closure and stuff._

The thought had crossed Francesco’s mind, but he’d figured it was too soon for watching Lorenzo marrying someone else to bring him anything but pain. Closure wouldn’t come until later. _I just can’t,_ he told her.

After another hour of sulking, he finally dragged himself out of bed and downstairs for some food. He waved off the household staff asking if he’d like a meal prepared and insisted he just wanted to dig around in the kitchen himself, and then, because he apparently hated himself, he flopped down on the couch with a bowl of cereal and flipped through a couple channels until he found one (of many, no doubt) that was covering the royal wedding.

Francesco’s stomach jolted when he saw that Clarice was already walking down the aisle of the Duomo, looking radiant in the wedding dress Francesco was sure he’d be seeing pictures of all over the internet for the next year. _Great,_ he thought bitterly. _Turned it on perfectly in time._ Why couldn’t it still have been the pre-wedding coverage that would’ve bored him after a few minutes and encouraged him to turn it off and go do something else?

He tried not to notice how handsome Lorenzo looked. Tried not to let himself imagine that he was the one standing up there with him.

But as the priest welcomed everybody and began his speech about the solemn commitment of matrimony, Francesco noticed that in addition to looking absurdly beautiful, Lorenzo also looked absurdly nervous. Clarice did too, he’d noticed that while she was walking down the aisle, but he’d chalked it up to her being unused to being the center of attention at such a massive, internationally-televised event. Lorenzo should’ve been accustomed to that sort of thing, though, so why was _he_ so nervous?

Was it just wishful thinking on Francesco’s part? No, Lorenzo definitely looked paler than usual, and he was repeatedly shifting his weight from foot to foot and gnawing on his lip, the previous strained smile now completely gone from his face.

And then he spoke. “Um…”

The priest paused and looked at him uncertainly. Francesco’s eyes were glued to the screen, his heart in his throat. What was happening?”

“I just, um…” Lorenzo stammered. “I need a minute, please, sorry."

And he hurried off to the side to duck into the sacristy, shutting the door behind him as a storm of whispers broke out from the guests.

The news anchors started exclaiming about this unprecedented occurrence, but Francesco wasn’t listening, a million scenarios running through his mind as to what on earth Lorenzo was doing and what was going to happen next. Was he…was he going to call it off? He couldn’t do that…could he?

And above everything, there was one persistent thought rattling around his head. _Why the hell am I here right now and not there?_

Francesco hastily set his cereal bowl on the coffee table and jumped to his feet. Palazzo Pazzi wasn’t far from the Duomo, he could walk there in ten minutes. And he _had_ been invited, so they’d let him inside even though he was atrociously late, right? On the other hand, there was the whole thing where he’d just been involved in a scandal with Lorenzo. But back to the first hand, Francesco was sure he could make a big stink about being the brother of Princess Bianca’s boyfriend if they tried to deny his entry.

He glanced down at himself. They’d probably be more likely to let him in if he didn’t show up wearing pajamas and looking like a crazy abandoned lover who was planning to make a scene. So he dashed upstairs to throw on the first suit he grabbed out of his closet and tidy up his hair, some part of his brain still yelling, _What the fuck? Are you seriously doing this?_

He was seriously doing this.

It wasn’t like he _was_ going to make a scene, Francesco insisted to that reasonable part of his brain. He had _way_ too much respect for himself to burst into a wedding and pathetically declare his love for the groom. No, if the wedding still ended up going ahead after whatever meltdown Lorenzo was having, Francesco had no intention of stopping it. He was just going to quietly slip into the back of the cathedral, just so he could watch whatever happened.

Even if the man he was in love with did still get married today, Francesco wanted to be there to see it happen in person, not just watch it on TV. Whether that was because he believed Novella’s closure theory or because he was simply a masochist, he really couldn’t say, nor did he have time to dwell on it, because he was now fully dressed and racing back downstairs.

Francesco took a deep breath. And then stepped outside and started speedwalking in the direction of the Duomo.

* * *

Lorenzo was leaning against the wall of the blessedly deserted sacristy, gasping for breath and feeling hot and claustrophobic and lightheaded. He hadn’t even thought about what a scene he would cause by running out on his own wedding; all he’d been able to think was that he had to get out of there and that he couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t do this.

The door opened again a few seconds later to reveal his mother. “Lorenzo, what’s going on?” she said, sounding concerned rather than annoyed.

“I can’t do it,” he whispered so that his voice wouldn’t carry outside the room, though the shocked rumble of voices he could hear coming from the guests was probably a pretty good cover anyway. “I can’t do it.”

Lucrezia crossed the room and took him in her arms, holding him close and soothingly shushing him as he cried into her shoulder as quietly as he could. “Because of Francesco?” she asked.

“No—well, maybe in part, but not entirely,” Lorenzo said. “I-I can’t be happy like this, married to someone I didn’t choose. That always would’ve been true in the end regardless of Francesco. But he’s the one who made me realize it now instead of years down the line. I thought I was okay giving up the possibility of true love because I’d never been in love before and I didn’t know—” His voice broke. “I didn’t know it would hurt this much.”

Lucrezia hugged him tighter. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said. “You don’t have to do this.”

Lorenzo lifted his tearstained face, astonished. “What? But—but I _do_ have to, I have to do it for Florence, it’s my duty to—”

“Listen to me,” Lucrezia said gently. “Yes, we do have to put duty before personal happiness most of the time. But not _all_ the time. I saw firsthand how rocky your grandparents’ marriage often was, and I don’t want that for you. I want you to marry someone you love as much as I loved your father, and if you really don’t believe Clarice can become that person even with time, then you shouldn’t marry her. Your life as king will be difficult and stressful enough without adding an unhappy marriage to that. I should’ve said all of this weeks ago. I thought you were just confused because of Francesco, I didn’t realize how truly unhappy you were about marrying Clarice.”

“But if I don’t marry her today, Parliament won’t let me ascend the throne,” Lorenzo said. “It’s not fair to make Bianca do it just because I didn’t want to get married.”

“We’ll make another appeal to Parliament. We’ll make them see how absurd it would be to force you out of the succession just because you don’t want to get married today, when you’re the best and most prepared candidate for the throne,” Lucrezia said. “We’ll promise them you’ll be married within five or ten years, just not today. And if they _still_ won’t accept it, then Bianca can rise to the occasion with grace. She doesn’t want to be queen, no, but she doesn’t want to see you miserable either.”

“It would be such a scandal,” Lorenzo pointed out.

Lucrezia grimaced in agreement, but then said wryly, “Well, you’ve already caused quite the scandal by running in here, you might as well commit to it.”

“And Clarice, I can’t embarrass her like this. I mean, I know she doesn’t particularly want to marry me either—”

“She doesn’t?”

“No, we talked about it the other day and we both agreed to go through with it for duty rather than because either of us really wants to.”

“Well, that’s all the more reason _not_ to go through with it, then,” Lucrezia said. “Some hurt and embarrassment for both of you now will spare you a world of pain years down the line from being stuck in a marriage neither of you wanted.” She kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, Lorenzo, and I’ll be proud of you no matter what you decide. It’s up to you.”

Lorenzo weighed his options. He thought about Clarice, lovely and kind and the perfect queen, and doomed to a life of misery married to someone she could never love and who might never be able to love her either, at least not in the way she deserved. He thought about Francesco and the one perfect night they’d had together, and he thought about how much it would hurt both of them having to live the rest of their lives knowing they could never have anything more than that one night, wondering what might have been if they could’ve.

What if they never got over each other? What if Francesco was Lorenzo’s soulmate? Lorenzo didn’t know if he even believed in soulmates, but he wanted the chance to find out. _That_ was what he wanted. Time, and with it, a chance at true love. Maybe he wouldn’t find it, maybe things with Francesco would fizzle out, and maybe Lorenzo would never end up finding anyone else either. Maybe there was no such thing as a soulmate or “the one.” But Lorenzo wanted enough time to try.

He’d thought he could go through with the wedding, he’d thought he was ready. He’d thought he was strong enough, selfless enough, to exchange love for duty. But now at the crucial moment when he actually had to commit to that choice…he couldn’t do it.

“Okay,” Lorenzo said at last. “I’m going to call it off.”

Lucrezia squeezed his hand and went back outside, and after a moment spent gathering his courage, Lorenzo followed.

He went back over to Clarice, who searched his expression and seemed to immediately know what he’d decided. Lorenzo hugged her, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “Actually, I should be thanking you. For being brave enough to follow your heart, even when I wasn’t. I think you’re doing us both a favor by calling it off.”

Lorenzo chuckled. “You deserve to marry someone who truly loves you and vice versa, and I can’t be that person, as much as I wish I could. Or to not marry and become a nun, if that’s what you’d rather.”

“We’ll see,” Clarice said, also laughing a little. “And you deserve true love too. But I promise, you’ll always be able to call me a friend.”

“Same.” Lorenzo kissed her on the cheek. “All right, now I just have to tell everyone else.”

“And I have to tell my mother. Want to switch?” Clarice joked, and Lorenzo snickered before letting go of her and walking over to the pulpit. Clarice went to sit in the first pew next to her mother and started quietly explaining the situation to her as more shocked mutters swept through the cathedral.

Lorenzo cleared his throat and tapped the microphone to make sure it was on. “Um, hi,” he said, trying not to sweat as hundreds of pairs of eyes all locked onto him. He didn’t even let himself think about how many more pairs of eyes were watching on TV. “I just wanted to let you all know that I’m actually not getting married today.”

More shocked mutters, louder this time. Lorenzo tried to call on every public speaking lesson he’d ever had as he prepared what to say next. If he managed to pull this off, completely unscripted and on the fly, he personally thought he ought to be remembered to history as the best public speaker of all time.

“The only reason I was going to get married today is because there’s an old law saying that Florentine monarchs must be married when they ascend the throne,” he said. “You probably know this because that law’s been mentioned in the news a lot ever since my father died two months ago, but before that I bet most of you didn’t know it existed, because it’s a really obscure and little-known law, and one that I and many others feel is outdated.

“The idea of ensuring that a monarch isn’t long without an heir is good in theory, but in practice, it’s simply unnecessary. Just because I’m unmarried when I ascend the throne at age twenty-four doesn’t mean that I won’t still marry and have children soon enough. And the line of succession is quite long and thorough, so even if I were to die childless, my sister or brother or their hypothetical future children would succeed me. That law was made hundreds of years ago when Florence was often troubled by both external and internal strife and by power struggles among the nobility, but in this more peaceful and harmonious day and age, I’m hard-pressed to think of any situation where the succession would be in doubt or at risk.”

There were some approving murmurs now, or at least they sounded approving to Lorenzo. He took heart and continued. “I have been training and preparing to succeed my father as king since birth. It’s a great and solemn responsibility and one I do not take lightly, but I feel as ready as one can in this situation,” he said. “I love Florence, and to serve her and her people would be my greatest honor. And my ability to do so does not depend on my marital status. I appeal to the esteemed members of Parliament to look into their hearts and minds and ask themselves whether they truly believe this law is necessary.”

Lorenzo looked over to the section near the front where all the Parliament members and their families were seated, and to his gratitude, Luca Soderini stood up. “I said this at the Parliament meeting two months ago, and I will say it again now,” he said. “His Highness has my full confidence. I trust him to do right by Florence, and I do not believe he needs to be immediately married to do so. He ought to be afforded the freedom to marry whenever—and whomever—he chooses, the same as the rest of us.”

Lorenzo smiled at him, and his smile widened when Ardinghelli stood up and said, “I agree. A hastily-made marriage is never wise and always has consequences.” _Thank you for breaking his heart, Lucrezia,_ Lorenzo thought. “Not to mention that adjusting to the responsibility of the crown will be enough for His Highness to be concerned with without also trying to adjust to a new marriage at the same time. Let him ascend unmarried, and once the transition period is over and he is confident in his new role, then he may turn his thoughts to marriage.”

Then Jacopo stood up. Great. Just when things were going well. “The law is very clear. Monarchs must be married in order to be crowned,” he said. “If we start ignoring and repealing laws just when they inconvenience us personally, Florence will descend into chaos. His Highness cannot ascend the throne unmarried, and if neither he nor his siblings are willing to marry, then my nephew Francesco, who is next in line, will be more than happy to do his duty by making a suitable marriage and taking the throne in their place.”

“No, I will not,” a familiar voice rang out. Lorenzo’s eyes widened, and he turned to see a figure striding down the aisle of the Duomo.

Francesco. Francesco was here.

He came to a halt next to Jacopo’s pew. “I’m tired of you manipulating me,” Francesco said. “I’m tired of it and I won’t be a pawn in your games any longer.” He turned a little to address Parliament at large. “I officially renounce my claim on the throne of Florence.”

The guests gasped at the drama even though most of them probably hadn’t even known Francesco had a claim on the throne of Florence. “Don’t be ridiculous, Francesco,” Jacopo snapped. “You’re betraying your family, your legacy. The throne is the Pazzi’s rightful place, _your_ rightful place.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, the claim comes through my mother’s side, not my father’s. Not yours,” Francesco said. “The Pazzi have no claim to the throne whatsoever, only the Alessandri do. And as one of two surviving Alessandri, I’m telling you that I renounce my claim.”

“As the other surviving Alessandri,” Guglielmo said, getting to his feet, “I renounce my claim as well.”

“You have no power without us, Uncle,” Francesco said. “You’re nothing without us.”

Jacopo spluttered in angry astonishment at finally being talked back to by Francesco, and Lorenzo couldn’t help but laugh, pride warming his heart. Francesco ignored Jacopo and turned to look at Lorenzo.

“I support Lorenzo’s claim to the throne,” he said, ostensibly to the room, but Lorenzo felt like he was talking solely to him. “He’ll be the best king Florence could ever hope for, and it would be foolish to deny our country its best possible ruler just because of some silly outdated marriage law.”

There were more approving murmurs than ever. Lorenzo realized Prime Minister Petrucci, who’d been standing somewhere behind him, was stepping closer and trying to tell him something. “What?” Lorenzo whispered.

“Make a motion,” Petrucci said, badly disguised as a coughing fit.

“Oh.” Lorenzo turned back to the microphone and said, “I hereby make a motion to Parliament to repeal the law stating that monarchs must be married to ascend the throne.”

“Nay,” Jacopo said at once.

“Aye,” Soderini said just as quickly.

“Aye,” said Ardinghelli.

Vespucci stood. “Aye.”

Soon there was a chorus of ayes, and Lorenzo couldn’t stop smiling. “The ayes have it,” Petrucci announced. “The law is officially repealed. Prince Lorenzo’s coronation will still take place next week as planned, even though he is not getting married today.”

Applause swept through the room (and some annoyed murmurs, and some just plain confused murmurs, but mostly applause). Lorenzo looked over at Jacopo in triumph and saw that he looked furious and was stepping over everyone in his pew to reach Francesco still standing in the aisle.

“How dare you betray me?” he was yelling as Francesco quickly moved back to avoid him. “After everything I’ve done for you? You insolent, ungrateful little—”

Lorenzo caught the eye of one the security guards and tilted his head towards Jacopo, and within seconds he was being grabbed and escorted off the premises, still shouting the whole way. Everyone was shifting in their seats uncertainly, some starting to stand up, so Lorenzo figured he ought to clarify that the wedding was indeed officially over now.

“So, that concludes today’s events and you’re all free to go. I do apologize for wasting your time,” he said. “But I’d like to invite you all back to the palace for the reception lunch, because the palace staff worked incredibly hard putting it together and it would be a shame for it to go to waste.”

* * *

Within an hour, Lorenzo was hanging out on the palace lawn with a plate of wedding cake in his hands, doing his best to avoid his poor PR staff begging him to come make some statements to various news outlets. All that could wait. He’d had a very stressful day and right now he just wanted to relax for five minutes.

Lucrezia Donati came over to join him. “Congratulations on not getting married,” she said.

Lorenzo laughed. “Thanks.”

“So, Clarice is single now, right?”

“Did you miss the part where I abandoned her at the altar on live TV an hour ago?”

“I know, but like, would it be cool if I asked her out or would you get all weird about it? It’s just that I’d want to do it before she goes back to Rome because I might never see her again after that…”

Surprised, Lorenzo turned to look at her and saw that her expression was genuinely hopeful. “I think that’s a great idea,” he said sincerely. “I know she really liked spending time with you at the garden party, she kept talking about you afterwards.”

Lucrezia beamed. “Really? She did?”

“Uh-huh. Now get over there,” Lorenzo said, nudging her over towards Clarice, who had changed out of her wedding dress and was chatting cheerfully with Carlo and Sandro, looking as relieved as Lorenzo felt.

Lucrezia took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched over to her. Lorenzo watched with interest as Clarice excused herself from the others to turn to Lucrezia. Lucrezia was saying something, and Lorenzo was too far away to hear any of the conversation, but it seemed to be going well judging by the way Clarice was blushing and nodding and biting her lip in an unsuccessful attempt to hide a smile.

Smiling himself, Lorenzo decided he’d avoided his PR staff long enough and ought to go make his statements, and he was halfway back to the palace when he heard someone calling his name. His heart jumped into his throat. “Francesco,” he said, turning to face him.

“Hi. I was looking for you,” Francesco said, coming to a halt beside him. “I wanted to tell you I can’t stay, there’s some loose ends at home I have to go tie up.”

“Loose ends?”

“While I was looking for evidence of my uncle’s payment to the guy who filmed us—did you hear about all that?”

“Yeah, Bianca told me,” Lorenzo said. “And I’m so sorry that I immediately blamed you that morning, I should’ve trusted you.”

“It’s okay, really. I know I’ve done a pretty bad job of giving you any reason to trust me,” Francesco said, but with good humor. “But anyway, while I was doing that, I also uncovered a whole lot of shady business deals my uncle’s been making over the years, not to mention quite a bit of tax fraud.” He allowed himself a small smile. “I think the authorities will be paying a visit to Palazzo Pazzi any day now.”

“Damn. Good for you,” Lorenzo said, impressed. “For that and for standing up to him today. It must’ve been really hard to do.”

“Oh, no, honestly, it’s easy talking back to him in public when you know he’s not going to hurt you in front of all those people,” Francesco said, and the nonchalant way he spoke the words made Lorenzo’s heart hurt. “I barely helped, you were the one who did everything. You could’ve done it without me.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Lorenzo said. “You were really brave, Francesco. Seriously. Thank you.”

Francesco just shook his head to deflect the praise, blushing. “Um, so, anyway, I should get going,” he said. “But…we’ll talk later? Once things have settled down a little?”

“Definitely,” Lorenzo promised. “You’ll be at the coronation next week?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good. We’ll talk then.”

Lorenzo was dying to kiss him, but they were still perfectly within the guests’ view and he was conscious of making any more of a scandal today than he already had. So instead they just exchanged a smile before going their separate ways, cherishing the promise of _later._


	7. Chapter 7

**1 Week Later**

“How are things at home?” Guglielmo asked as they strolled through the palace halls.

“Pretty weird,” Francesco said. “Uncle’s furious with me for snitching on him, but luckily he’s been too busy scrambling to prepare for a trial he’s going to lose to bother dealing with me.”

“It’s not safe for you to be there with him, you should come live here until he’s behind bars.”

“Yeah, maybe. If the Medici wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course they won’t mind, you’re family,” Guglielmo said firmly. “And Lorenzo will be thrilled to have you back here permanently.” Francesco felt his cheeks turning pink, and it didn’t escape Guglielmo’s notice. “Have you guys talked at all about where things stand between you?”

“No, everything’s been so hectic this week, we haven’t had the chance,” Francesco said. “I was hoping to talk to him sometime today, but his coronation starts in a few hours, I’m sure he’s busy.”

“He won’t be too busy for you, I know he’s been anxious to talk to you too.” Before Francesco could accuse him of gossiping about him with Lorenzo behind his back, Guglielmo’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Gotta go, Bianca’s looking for me,” he said. “But you should go find Lorenzo, he’s around somewhere.”

He hurried off, so Francesco wandered around on his own, asking everyone he ran into if they’d seen Lorenzo, but no one had. After ten minutes of searching, he came across Lucrezia Tornabuoni in consultation with several staff members, no doubt over details of today’s events, but when she spotted him, she excused herself from the conversation and came over to him.

“Welcome back, Francesco,” she said warmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Francesco gave her an awkward nod, remembering the last one-on-one conversation they’d had. “You too, Your Majesty,” he said. “I’ll get out of your way, I was looking for Lorenzo.”

“You’re not in my way. On the contrary, I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Lucrezia said. “I owe you an apology.”

“What for?”

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. “So many things,” she said. “First, for misjudging you. I assumed you were untrustworthy and just like your uncle, but I was wrong. Lorenzo was right when he told me we should give you a second chance. I realize now what a good man you are, and I’m sorry it took me so long to see it. Your parents would be truly proud of the person you’ve become.”

Francesco’s eyes felt a little wet. Apparently they were doing an emotional heart-to-heart right here and now, then. “That means a lot,” he said. “But I can’t blame you for thinking I was like my uncle. I _was_ like him, until recently, when I finally realized I shouldn’t have let him manipulate me for so long.”

“It’s not your fault. He was the one who raised you since you were nine years old, no wonder you had difficulty getting out from under his hold,” Lucrezia said. “That’s the other thing I want to apologize for. The past fifteen years. Everything you said to me a few weeks ago—”

“I shouldn’t have said all those things,” Francesco interrupted, embarrassed. “I was having a bad day and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Everything you said was true and justified,” Lucrezia said, remorse written all over her face. “We _should_ have tried harder to get custody of you boys. We shouldn’t have abandoned you. We failed you. _I_ failed you, and it’s one of my biggest regrets. I am so sorry, Francesco. And I know it can’t even begin to make up for all the pain you went through, but I meant what I said that day. You’re always welcome here in our home. In our family.”

Francesco couldn’t say a word, he was so overwhelmed. But he didn’t have to: Lucrezia took him in her arms, hugging him tight as a few tears started trickling down his cheeks. Francesco gratefully leaned into her, savoring the safety of her embrace, the feeling of having a parental figure in his life again for the first time since age nine.

He’d grown up so quickly, going from child to parent overnight when he and Guglielmo were left alone in Jacopo’s house and Francesco had had to take care of his brother. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the feeling of having someone take care of him.

Lucrezia let go of him at last and kindly pretended not to notice Francesco wiping his eyes. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on between you and Lorenzo, Lorenzo’s been vague about it the past week,” she said. “But I hope we’ll be seeing more of you regardless, whether it’s as his friend or as…something else.”

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully, and Francesco felt himself blushing. “I hope so too,” he said. “But I don’t know what’s going on either, I was looking for him so I could clarify it.”

Lucrezia laughed. “I haven’t seen him since breakfast, he has a lot to do this morning. But I’ll tell him to text you if I do see him.”

“Thanks.”

Lucrezia went on her toes to press a kiss to his forehead, then turned around to rejoin her conversation as Francesco left the room and continued on his way, still smiling.

When he poked his head into one of the palace’s many sitting rooms several minutes later, he was surprised to see Clarice and Lucrezia Donati sitting together on the sofa watching TV and…were they _snuggling?_

“Um, sorry,” he said awkwardly when they looked up at his entrance. “I was looking for Lorenzo, but he’s not here, so I’ll just—”

“Hang on, aren’t you at least going to let me say hi?” Lucrezia said. “I haven’t seen you since that garden party. Well, I did _see_ you at the not-wedding, but I didn’t get to talk to you.”

“Hi,” Francesco said obediently.

“It’s nice to see you again, Francesco,” Clarice said.

Her tone was perfectly pleasant, but Francesco was suddenly horribly conscious of the fact that he’d sort of stolen her fiancé. “Uh, you too,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know you were still—I mean, I figured you would’ve wanted to go back to Rome as soon as you could.”

“And deal with my mother complaining about me not going through with marrying Lorenzo? No thanks, it’s much more relaxing here,” Clarice said with a laugh. “Besides, Lorenzo and I are doing our best to be seen being amicable together to dispel all that stupid gossip about the nonexistent drama between us. I’ll probably be staying in Florence a few more weeks.”

“Maybe longer,” Lucrezia said, reaching out to tenderly tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Clarice gave her a soft smile. “Maybe longer,” she agreed.

“Right,” Francesco said, wondering what exactly he’d missed in the week he’d been at Palazzo Pazzi. “Also, I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about, you know, breaking up your engagement and stuff.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m relieved, honestly,” Clarice said. “And it wasn’t because of you that we called it off, or at least not _only_ because of you. Lorenzo and I just weren’t right for each other, we’re great as friends but would’ve been miserable as husband and wife. We were only going to do it for the good of Florence, but now he’s getting crowned without having to marry me, so problem solved.” She smiled at Lucrezia again. “And now he and I both have the chance to be truly happy.”

Francesco studied her expression, baffled by how sincere she looked. Why wasn’t she mad at him? How could someone be _this_ nice a person? Florence was really getting a downgrade with him as the king’s partner instead of her. If Lorenzo even wanted a relationship with him, which was yet to be determined.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not upset,” Francesco said finally. “Still, I’m sorry for the part I played in embarrassing you.”

“I appreciate that. Although, you and Lorenzo were embarrassed just as much as I was, if not more. It really was awful for them to film you like that and invade your privacy,” Clarice said. “But embarrassment fades with time, and so does scandal. Soon enough some other celebrity somewhere will do something much more dramatic, and the media and everyone will forget all about us.”

“More dramatic than a royal wedding ending with the bride being left at the altar while the king runs off with another man?” Lucrezia said, grinning. “I can’t imagine what could top that.”

“Lorenzo didn’t ‘run off’ with me,” Francesco grumbled. “We’re not together or anything.”

“You’re not?! Why the hell not?”

“I haven’t even _seen_ him since the wedding, which is why I’m looking for him right now.”

“Oh, right,” Lucrezia said. “Well, I saw him downstairs about twenty minutes ago, he said he was taking some time alone to reflect before the coronation. He was near the throne room, I don’t know if he’s still there.”

_I’m taking some time alone to reflect_ did sound like some pretentious thing Lorenzo would say. “Thanks. You could’ve told me that when I first came in,” Francesco said. “See you guys later.”

“See you.”

He made his way to the throne room, hoping Lorenzo hadn’t gone too far since Lucrezia had seen him. To his relief, when he stepped into the room to check, Lorenzo was there, tentatively perched on the throne with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“You look right at home,” Francesco said.

Lorenzo started in surprise and turned towards him, a broad smile breaking out across his face. It was infectious, and Francesco couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m glad I look that way, because it’s the opposite of how I feel. I feel like an impostor, sitting here,” Lorenzo said. “Like it’s still my father’s and I’m just a kid playing on it for a little while.”

Francesco moved further into the room. “But it _is_ yours. And I know your father would be so proud to see you right now.”

Lorenzo gave him another smile, this one grateful, and Francesco took a few more steps closer to kneel in front of the throne. “Anyway, Your Majesty,” he said a little teasingly, “I have a request to ask of you. Two, actually.”

Lorenzo laughed. “Rise, loyal citizen,” he said, playing along. “Let’s hear your requests and I’ll see if they can be granted.”

Francesco got to his feet. “First, I ask for your forgiveness,” he said. “I wasn’t always honest with you. My uncle sent me to seduce you in an attempt to disrupt the succession, and in the beginning I was behaving solely with that goal in mind. But I quickly fell for you for real, and I swear to you, everything from our first kiss onwards, and even some of the stuff before that, was completely genuine on my part.”

“I see,” Lorenzo said. “And the second request?”

“Not so much a request, more of a question,” Francesco said. “You see, the king has my heart in his possession, and I was wondering if he intends to give it back to me anytime soon.”

Francesco held his breath, and he let it out in relief when Lorenzo started to smile again. He finally rose from the throne and moved to stand in front of Francesco. “I’ll grant your first request gladly,” Lorenzo said. “I forgive you, and I beg your forgiveness as well for jumping to conclusions.”

“Conclusions you had every right to jump to, given my past behavior,” Francesco said. “You have my forgiveness too, of course you do.”

“Good,” Lorenzo said. “As for your second request, although I’ve only had it for a little while, already your heart is my most treasured possession. More than this throne, more than this palace, more than all the crown jewels. And so I’m afraid that I won’t be able to return it to you.”

He took a step closer, and they were less than an inch apart now. “Oh,” Francesco said, starting to smile.

“But I believe you’ve been fairly compensated.” Lorenzo took his hand and placed it on his chest, right over his own heart. “Because my heart is in your possession. And I’m in no hurry for you to give it back.”

Francesco felt like he was walking on a cloud. Lorenzo loved him too. Lorenzo really, actually loved him. “I’ll take good care of it,” he promised.

“Thank you,” Lorenzo said. And then he finished closing the distance between them and kissed him. Francesco kissed him back, savoring the familiarity of it, the _rightness_ of it. Like he was coming home.

“I love you,” Lorenzo murmured. “My best friend.”

Francesco was smiling against his lips, so widely that they had to stop kissing. “I love you too,” he said.

Lorenzo reached up to rest his hand on his cheek, running his thumb across his cheekbone, and Francesco nuzzled into the touch. “I think I’m going to try and keep my love life out of the public eye for a while since I’ve already caused enough drama there lately,” Lorenzo said. “But in private, what would you say to being the king’s boyfriend?”

“Hmm. Are there any perks that come with the title?” Francesco joked.

Lorenzo smirked and pulled him even closer. “Oh, I can think of a few,” he said. “Exclusive and unlimited access to the royal bedchambers, for one.”

Francesco shook his head in fond exasperation. “You’re shameless.”

“That’s why you love me.” Lorenzo gave him another peck on the lips. “So, are you interested?”

“In being your boyfriend? Absolutely,” Francesco said, still unable to wipe the smile off his face. “I mean, you did call off your wedding partially because of me, so it would be awfully cruel of me to reject you at this point.”

Lorenzo laughed and kissed him again. Francesco closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax in the warmth of his arms for just one more moment before saying, “You should go, I’m sure you have a lot to do to get ready for the ceremony.”

Lorenzo sighed. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, reluctantly letting go of him. “But once I’m finally free tonight, I’m all yours. That’s a promise.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Francesco said. “So, how do you feel? Nervous?”

“Definitely,” Lorenzo said. “But…I also feel ready.”

Francesco took his hand as they walked out of the throne room together. “I know you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with it until the end!! I hope you enjoyed reading this little self-indulgent AU as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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